The Forgotten Curse
by The Cynical Optimist
Summary: In the war torn days of the Old Republic, Jedi and Sith alike are disappearing as relics from the past begin to return, threatening the entire galaxy. Follow a group of new students as they try to unravel this mystery and discuss who is behind it. R/R. Possible romance/multi.
1. Introductions

A/N: I acknowledge this is not my property, you know who it belongs to because half of the industry also belongs to them.

Read and Review, but if not that's fine. Not really into pushing things. If you have any suggestions or critiques, please feel free. I'd prefer that over accusing me of heresy or some shit about my writing. I have an overarching idea about this but I'm not set, so again feel free with suggestions. I like to write, I think it helps with a lot of things so I decided to try this. Yay me.

This is an even paced story, so please give it about 3 chapters before deciding if it's not for you. I won't lie, the first chapter is more of a ground setting so it's hard to get a proper feel this early on. So again, at least try one or two chapters.

This is kinda an alternate version of the Old Republic. A lot of the characters or events _may_ be the same but I feel like changing them or adding new ones for the sake of adding a surprising element to the plot. Also, while I'm a fan, I don't know everything about everything. So please be patient and forgiving with me on that angle.

Also, I don't like rushing things. I kinda hate stories where the characters are automatically the best, the coolest and are infallible for no legitimate reason. That being said, I'll probably be a hypocrite so forgive me haha. I want to build their path to the dark naturally as well as their developments with each other and their skills evenly. So please don't be annoyed if they loss fights or aren't amazing :P

I also lack an editor so please forgive any typos.

Have fun.

No. 1 Introductions.

The arid and almost evaporative air is already a nightmare for those that have to wait in it. Five seconds in and the urge to return to the temple is already becoming an enticing thought. Although it's doubtful that they'd let anyone so much as turn in a few moments before being shot in the back. The thought of being forced to go forward is exciting and enthralling to some while others view it as enough to make their spines fuse with the desire to sob on the inside. The elders and overseers are well versed in being able to pick the two and use them against each other. After all, the greatest metals are forged in the hottest of flames.

The human eyes the black armoured guards around him, standing stiffly on the platform with thick blaster rifles in both their hands. Rarely do any of the newcomers have any power that could cause any actual risk, thus needing someone with a saber or any actual skills is hardly needed. Thus, using a blaster to chop down anyone who tries to run or be aggressive is far more practical. The human taps his hips impatiently, chewing his dry and cut lips as his sun kissed brows furrow in agitation. The shuttle is always late, especially with the newcomers. Traffic on Korriban is rare, mostly military or officials. The system is hardly the place for tourists or even the average soldier. Most Sith actually prefer to avoid it altogether once they've been passed off to a master or given a mission. Something about the billions of deaths, souls of those dead and the concentration of pure darkness is something of a turn off. It's hard to figure out why.

After another two minutes the human chuckles angrily before tightening his black cotton top and straightening the two sides of fabric that flow either side of his legs. It's irritating to say the least to be out of traditional armour and be shoved into dress attire but the council is always one for formalities. Especially when the guests could potentially be slaughtering their enemies in the next several years. That, or die trying. Or be killed during training. Or before even starting. He lets out a tiny scoff at the thought. Their graduation numbers were always smaller than their _delightful_ Jedi counterparts. But one must never prefer quantity over quality. A thought that's shared by many on the council and higher ranking officials, and one that's soothed many a frustration over the numbers between the two forces. That being said, even the greatest of warriors struggle over a thousand enemies by himself.

He turns to the lieutenant beside him, watching as she apathetically scans her pad and idly fixes her grey uniform as well, occasionally tugging some blonde strands above her tiny yet thick military cap. She's a small thing and he bites his lips, slightly disgruntled by the fact she's no doubt off limits. Anyone official of major use is. Too many people have died due to the lust of someone who just wants a quick one for ease of the stress. A shame. They need more comfort girls here soon. She soon jerks her head up and he follows her gaze, seeing a shadow pass through the large orbital defence turrets and missile launchers. He takes his hand off his saber, finally seeing his task arrive.

The shuttle is a simple transport with a large grey frame and only two pilots. The rest of the ship is merely seats and areas to stand, lacking even a restroom or place to eat or drink. The shuttle can't even move past systems, instead relying on the larger cruisers and transports for that. Still, they have their uses, such as this. The rectangular vessel turns on its side and lands with its left facing towards the man and his soldiers where a large door is held.

The man turns to his men silently and as he faces back the sound of blasters charging enters his ears. The engines cool off for a few moments before the large door opens, revealing about a dozen or two forms of varying shapes and sizes. Most of them are humans, no older than twenty with some looking around fifteen, while some are less…desired. The man feels bile form as he takes note of two Twi'leks, a Togruta, several Zabrak and even a Chiss amongst the other aliens.

 _The Empire must be desperate for recruits. That or they've finally replenished the student's service women and men._ The man narrows his eyes at them and some of them stare straight back at him while others keep their eyes lowered. The smallest is a short human male with dark skin and fizzy brown hair while the largest is the Togruta, although that may be because her species naturally has a slightly larger frame than most, possibly due to the horns. Still, the force is stronger with the more pure blooded of the species and not some savage with tendrils and horns like a jacked bull. A faint smirk touches his lips. _She'll no doubt be the first to die. I doubt any master will pick her aside from…other duties._

The lieutenant begins reading off the datapad, summoning their names and each one steps forward as instructed until no one responds to one of them. The man and his underling exchange a glance before they look at the students again. He prepares to taunt the missing individual before a drawl enters the area.

"We had a minor disagreement." The voice answers from behind the students and the man smirks as they all stiffen.

A large man cloaked in dark robbed with a badge holding it together on his shoulder emerges from the shuttle. His height rivals that of the Togruta and is at least a head more than anyone else. The tiniest of the recruits barely registers compared to him. The overseer smiles briskly, even opening his arms to offer the recruiter a stiff embrace.

"Only one dead? An improvement over last year's massacre." The overseer laughs and for a moment the recruiter joins.

"The kid thought he'd like to argue about the methods of training. Least he doesn't have to suffer now." The recruiter laughs before trudging off towards the immense building cut into the red mountain behind them.

Most recruiters drop the students off then immediately start hunting more down for another group in six months. It was a constant job but very well supplied by the council. Some of the recruits look relieved at his absence and the overseer smirks. It was no doubt a very blunt and equally graphic resolution of the argument. He notices the sweat already forming on their cheeks and wonders how many of them blame the heat or their dread. He clicks his tongue and smiles brightly.

"Welcome to Korriban! Our holy land. More power has been born here than anywhere else. So you'd better respect and honour that fact. Only the worthy enter here and only the," He glances at the nonhumans, " _purest_ should leave it. I am Lord Scutus. Overseer of the younger recruits. I'll be handling your training here until it's felt that you can handle a master. And if that day seems like it'll never come, odds are it won't." He laughs again, rubbing his hands eagerly before looking them over again. "We will oversee both theoretical and practical learning. A soldier who cannot think is worse than a soldier who cannot fight. At least, _this_ council deems so. Some ground rules. No murdering your…friends without purpose. Revenge and cunning is one thing, blatant waste of resources is another. That being said, don't come complaining if you've been poisoned…or failed to keep the legs shut." He eyes the females and then glances to the males, "Masters are the law. Disobey them and they will kill you. They don't tolerate egos. I don't care to be honest how many, if _any_ , survive this temple. Only the best deserve the honour of being Sith. The rest…hmm. I'm sure you've already seen that."

Some nod softly and he grins predatorily again, showing off some yellow teeth. For a man only in his mid-thirties, the strains of combat have already taken a major strike to his shape. Without a word, he turns and heads up towards the guarded steel trail that heads to the temple. The students march on, some far more eager than the rest.

The temple itself is younger than the Sith actually want to admit. While the oldest rooms and basis for the force are as old as the legacy of those dead in Valley of the Sith, the majority of the massive structure is only a few hundred years old. Most of it is cut into the red rock, originally a defensive measure from their enemies. The older areas are made of dark green stone, imported from a planet that hasn't been located yet while the newer areas are steel and silver with barely any glass at all. The front is merely plain steel walls with red lights placed in the shape of windows and put where windows would be if they had any. The structure itself is massive, hundreds of rooms for food, training, reading, resting and meetings. While not the capital, the majority of the meetings relating to the Sith are held here. Even the capital has been infiltrated more times than admitted. Yet despite the size, the lack of windows and how tightly strung the rooms are make it very claustrophobic. Another layer of dread to add to the place.

The other structures littering the valley are mostly massive defensive measures or barracks for the guards while the valley to the dozens of tombs, each holding their own personification of hell.

The grandmaster sighs irritably as he rubs his wispy chin, idly contemplating a quick shave before meeting the new recruits. At least this year _some_ survived the transport over from the cruiser.

 _If only Vilius wasn't so damn deep in the council's favour, I could remove him from scouting the younglings._ He sighs before opening a bottle of brandy and rolling his head back. For a man only just reaching his forties, he should be honoured for this role. But in reality, it's a punishment. A punishment for one seeking to fight and being told to sit and play teacher. Not even teacher, _organiser._ The stench of the children is amongst gag worthy. Twenty years of suffering and warfare and now a hell that couldn't even be imagined by the devils of old. He massages his short, greying black hair and unbuttons the plated steel armour on his shoulders before reaching forward to the glass.

"Another, if you please." A light, regent voice murmurs.

A man in his late fifties enters, holding his pointed chin up high as he sweeps into the room. His uniform is pure white with several multi-coloured badges on his right breast. He even boasts a white cape with a silver underside to match it. And to finish it all off is a sash made from silver and jewels strapped against his chest to his hip. His worn blue eyes shift as he forms a smile, nodding at the grandmaster. Always the austriocrat. He remains silent but gains a second glass, refusing to stand up as the second man pours himself some Corellian brandy.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Grand Admiral?" The grandmaster asks in a low tone as his superior reaches forward.

The Grand Admiral sighs peacefully as the golden liquid burns his throat pleasantly before reforming his grin at the man in front of him.

"How are things Verrik? Well I hope?" He asks and Verrik rolls his eyes.

"Cut the crap. What do you want?" He asks briskly as he finishes his glass in one loud swig.

The Grand Admiral never loses his smile. Instead, he peers at the floor before answering.

"How long have we known each other? Twenty years? You were an apprentice and I was a mere trainee and we had that ghastly mission on…" Verrik slowly places a hand on the silver and grey cylinder on the table but the Grand Admiral almost laughs, "I am supreme commander of the imperial military. My power is only second to that of the Emperor. You won't touch me."

Verrik scoffs and leans forward, not leaving his grip on his lightsaber.

"I have links to the coun-".

"Oh hush. We both know you don't anymore." He murmurs and Verrik rises angrily, "Your failure at Tatooine saw that. That's why you're here, correct?" He asks in almost a whisper before pouring them both another round. "I want a favour, a trade if you will."

Verrik's laughter could almost be heard from the capital as he points a finger at him.

"You…You arrogantly storm in here and demand a deal. You still haven't changed from that pompous boy who almost got us killed." He sneers as he takes his newly filled glass.

"We can't deny…it was fun." The Admiral smiles, almost genuinely, and they both shared a glass, although Verrik keeps his sneer. "The Dark Council have asked me to…Hmm. Context first. We're losing to many Sith. Now I'd prefer a good bombardment over…mysticism, however, those in power disagree. Students are dying in the field faster than you're producing. I'm here to rectify that and-"

"I will not lower the standard of teachings here at the academy. Hell, this means we should increase their training so they stop _dying_."

The Admiral stares into his drink, nodding softly before turning to Verrik.

"I said the same. But the Dark Council were never strategists."

"Ooooh. Be careful. That sounds like treason." Verrik mocks.

"No. It's criticism. They're just…old. I want a compromise. Start sending the students on practical missions as soon as deemed possible. That way we have more soldiers without needing to lessen the standards. In a way, it's increasing them like we suggested." He finishes his drink while Verrik stares at him carefully, thinking over a possible angle.

His old friend didn't achieve such a rank due to honesty. No, many a superior was conned and many colleagues disappeared in order to even become commander. He leans back, reluctantly becoming curious.

"What do I get?" He asks slowly and the Admiral grins as he pours another round for them.

"You may be hated by the council for your failure. I answer only to one. I get strong suggestions from the council but I still only answer to him."

"Despite never meeting him?" He chuckles and smirks "Well I-".

"Haven't either. I know that for a fact." He counters with a wink. "I'll have you removed from this…delightful position and given a command again. A _military_ command. Maybe even a cruiser. As long as you make this a success. Because Verrik, if this fails, I'll..."

He pauses, his face losing the confidence he previously adorned and concern graces his features. His throat tightens as his Adam's apple bops slightly before losing focus again. Verrik knows the expression all too well. He's held it very often recently. He doesn't need to read emotions to understand pure dread.

"The war isn't working, is it?" He asks slowly, picking his words carefully.

"We're not losing. Just…not winning either." He admits before drinking softly, "Have we got a deal?"

Verrik chews his lip for a moment. He's literally holding both their necks out for this but he sees the advantages of it. There's no progress from this place otherwise and if he gets killed for cutting down the students, so be it. Death at least holds its own rewards and is hardly as stagnate as this. A position such as this holds literally prospect of advancement as it technically is the highest rank in this field. Any chance of holding some influence or connections with future students are cut due to their masters having own ideals or schemes. There really is no end to this purgatory by itself. He nods stiffly and they raise the remainder of their drinks before finishing them.

"Together, we will try to fix the poor standards of my underlings. Hopefully some students can replace my military board." He jokes as he tries to become sombre.

"I'll do my best. For old times' sake." Verrik grunts and the Admiral straightens his suit.

"Well, enjoy your new students." He says in a low voice.

Verrik nods silently and removes the brandy while the Admiral exits the rooms, a hungry grin forming on his face as he licks his chapped lips.

The living quarters are smaller than originally imagined. Twenty single, stacked bunks spread out and lined against the walls, one above another so to save the space. Beside each stacked bunk are two crates, for each occupant's belongings while the middle of the rectangular room is just a small carpet with purple mixed into the dark blue. The lights look old and the circuits barely function probably while there's a single restroom in the corner. The walls are _scarred_ horribly, with the remains of some very disgruntled students still being here. The students shuffle in while Scutus clicks his tongue behind them, enjoying their disappointment.

"You will rest here when you're not studying or training. The showers are across the left, next to the other sets of dormitories. The eating hall is directly below us and you will be fed three times a day. Caught stealing and you will be punished. Caught late and you will be punished. Guess what happens if you're caught lying?"

Everyone remains silent before the smaller teen with frizzy hair opens his mouth.

"We're punished?"

Scutus claps his hands together.

"You'll go far. The library and studying hall and across from here. Do not disturb the masters from anything, even if it's killing your favourite pet. And no, you get no pets. It's an analogy." He answers in a bored tone. "The training halls are above us on the third floor. You do not go above that. Those are master's quarters and other rooms you don't need to know about."

He looks around and sees someone smirking. He's a tall human with broad shoulders and brown hair down to his chin. He stands straight with his arms crossed, his brown eyes betraying the enjoyment he's clearly having. Scutus nods and suddenly his posture falters. He soon answers, trying to maintain his pride.

"I don't see how we need to worry about those rooms." He answers and Scutus raises a brow.

"Why is that?" He asks lowly as he begins to pace towards him, his eyes darkening as he prowls.

"I-I think training and discipline is what we are meant to focus on. After all, we are _Sith._ Power is what we are meant to maintain, for the sake of our emperor. Eavesdropping won't get us far this soon."

Scutus nods in thought as he stands behind the boy and he places his hand on his shoulder. The boy stiffens immediately.

"I agree. This young man clearly knows the principles of our order. You were well picked."

The boy's shoulders ease and his smirk returns to full gusto as he puffs out his decent chest. His chest rises only to stiffen as a pained and strained gasp leaves his tightening lips. His face is encased in a shade of red and the others stiffen, horror or excitement easing into their faces. Scutus leans into his shaking ear, his hand at his hip where his saber is ignited but not even unclipped.

"But you're _not_ Sith. You haven't _earnt_ that title." He whispers before kicking the boy to his knees.

He huffs loudly, bitting his lips before grunting and thrashing his arm to the side with a silent snarl, adding even more horror as the boy's head rolls in front of them. Some of them chuckle while the others bite back the urge to scream. Scutus turns it off and stares at the body, smoke thinly rising from the burns.

"Well, still an improvement from last year." He chuckles before staring at them. "Get rest and to know each other. Tomorrow we start basic training." He heads towards the door only to pause "Oh, I do hope none of you fear spiders. _Giant_ spiders." Silence answers him, "Good. They're quite cuddly when they're dead. Most species are. Just try with him." He laughs loudly as the door slides shut.

Silence enters the room. The heat of the desert world is now foreign, replaced by cold that smothers the bones and stuffs the lungs to the point of pain. Some of them watch as the guards clean up the body before they exit, leaving the students alone. The sound of clapping and chuckling slides into the ears of them. A medium sized human female with cropped blonde hair and icy blue eyes slaps her hands together callously before placing them on her hips.

"Now _that_ was a good introduction. Sure beats the science division on Dromund Kaas, that's for sure." She chuckles and several of them nod.

"Well I'd love to see how the Elite Guard entice their students." A Zabrak with a large crown of horns on his dusty and rough skin growls in agreement.

The girl scoffs and eyes him with clear disgust as if he were complete filth. She steps back, affronted, and taps her hips again.

"Oh please. We must clearly have a charity scheme running. That or we're truly losing to the Republic." She chuckles while leaning on a bunk frame as he smirks and turns to her.

"Meaning?" He asks in a shallow tone, his shoulders rising and revealing the slightly larger muscles that a human would hold.

His thin horns shine in the light, at least a dozen going around his head to form a crown of sorts. The Zabrak are a sturdy species, their tough skin and lean muscular figures evidence of the harsh climate of their homeworld.

"Meaning that true power comes from the better races. You're barely human looking. You're not even worthy to be between my thighs to service me, Zabrak."

The insult is more confusing more than anything. The Togruta remains impassive while the Twi'lek females exchange confused glances. Two human males exchange grins and one winks before his cheeks flush…and turn purple. His body turns stiff as he clutches his throat, clawing at it until he draws blood. His pained and desperate gasps almost become terrified sobs as the female clenches her fist.

"I noticed that." She spits in disgust before turning to the other nonhumans. "You should all be grateful you're here. Especially you, Twi'lek sluts. You're lucky you're not having your asses filled by the tail of some Hutt while you scream and cry." She hisses, seething before turning to the Togruta, "As for the beas-OOOF!" She hisses, clutching her nose as rivers of crimson flow from the cracks of her digits.

The Togruta smirks gently before returning to being almost robotic, massaging her left lekku as the two head tails vibrate with her joy. Her skin is mainly orange with dark blue square patterns where her face meets her head tails and horns, while the lekku is a mix of the two and her horns are pure white. Her young age is evident by the fact her smaller side and back tails only reach her armpits and her top horns are only just sprouting up and are barely thick at all. The Twi'leks have bigger lekku than hers, although that may be due to age or quicker development.

The group laughs, excited by the entertainment while one of them remains silent. A leaner, less imposing human with black hair towards the back eyes the scene carefully, not wanting to be dragged into it. His pale face tenses, not particularly liking the conflict as his brown eyes scan it carefully. He looks back down at his datapad and refocusses as the human girl spits red salvia at the Togruta's feet. The boy behind her takes deep breaths, thankful that he can finally breathe again as he tries to stand on wobbly legs, his neck bleeding concerningly fast.

"Brute." She growls, "I doubt you could even throw a pillow with any of the force at all." She yells but her counterpart remains silent for a moment.

"Shall I try?" She counters and the human's cheeks flush.

"Don't sleep tonight." She hisses as she sits on her bunks, her manic eyes almost vibrating at the Togruta.

Some of the others sigh with their shoulders dropping, the prospect of the show being over disheartening them. The boy at the back looks over the scene again before deciding to move his single bag to the set of bunks at the end, away from the others due to it having part of the wall separating it from the rest. Just as he throws his bag on the tiny mattress, it stops. In the air. It floats for a moment before it flies into his chest, knocking him back several steps. The Zabrak from earlier and some others snigger as the Togruta shoves him, placing her bag on the top mattress.

"Move from here." She warns as she ascends the step to reach the top.

He sighs and glares at her before moving to the bunk set across from her. He unzips his belongings and swiftly makes sure everything is stacked and in the exact order he left them in, making him sigh almost happily. The shorter guy looks at the two of them and whistles.

"Is there anyone here who _isn't_ a prick?" He chuckles as he sets up in the middle.

"Missing your mother already?" The Zabrak mocks as he sets up next to him.

To his surprise, the boy winks at him.

"Not when I have you."

The Zabrak freezes for a moment and even considers moving away from the boy and his possible intentions before the boy laughs. The Zabrak realises the joke and chuckles before moving next to him.

"I'm flattered. I might feel bad when I slaughter you in your sleep." He counters and the darker boy shrugs, jabbing a finger at the brooding human as she uses a small mirror to examine her still bleeding nose.

"More worried about her cutting off our genitals." He leans in and whispers, "Imagine when she gets her saber."

The Zabrak shrugs and leans back.

"Humans fear a lack of sex too much."

"Virgin." He human boy smirks only to gasp as he drops to his knees, cupping his groin.

"You seem troubled. What were you saying?" The Zabrak smirks as he removes his foot.

The heat soon returned but the underlying chill never did quite leave. Even in the night, the pressure at the back of your head was still there. The bubble in the pit of the stomach was still shifting uneasily. The dark-haired boy could feel it even now, the endless feeling that any warmth will be sucked up. Any fire will be licked and caressed by ice until only a damp patch remained. The endless desire to either run or lash at it until your tongue is glossy with its blood. It's an unsettling feeling to say the least. Horror mixed with rage. A desperate rage you don't quite know why it exists and that in itself makes you want to claw and lash into your eyes to relieve the feeling.

He tosses to the side, clearly not going to get any sleep. His eyes linger on his bag beside him, contemplating read but hesitating as the light from the pad might wake up the others. He sighs softly to himself before noticing a shadow shift slightly on the floor. His eyes trace the source and linger on the back of the room where a figure creeps along towards the bunk. He rolls his eyes and goes to lean back when he looks at the shadow again. It's only average sized and clearly lacks horns or lekku.

He slowly shifts on his bed, silently sitting and leaning on the edge of his bed as he watches the being move to the bunk. He moves to his feet without a sound, watching as he moves across the room in concern. The shadow shifts and he notices its arm raises and he chews his lips before noticing something off about the hand. It's shaped wrongly, too rough and uneven to form a hand or fingers and he tries to see what it is closely. The shadow swoops down and before he can resist he gently raises his palm without extending his arm forward, trying to be as subtle as possible. The figure gasps loudly as its arm halts and shakes. It pushes down more and the pressure in his hand rises to the point where he locks his teeth down tightly. After a moment he violently jerks his hand to the side and the shadow flies to the side and a loud grunt is heard as it collides with the wall.

Several of the others rise from their slumber and look at the scene in confusion as the lights turn on. Scutus enters the room, a mix of frustrated and curious. He tilts his head to the side, eyeing the panting human girl on the floor as she clutches her swelling arm before turning to the Togruta and then to the human boy before laughing. A grey piece of sharp metal, probably part of a machine or tool, is scattered several feet from the girl. He turns back to the human female and tatters.

"In the room for a late-night romp? Talking from experience, don't pick the bigger ones. They struggle more." He turns towards the male who swiftly lowers his head. "Well done. I felt that from outside the hall. Luckily I was passing by. You used enough to break her arm. Oh, head towards the medical bay in the morning. Dying from a medical issue would be _pathetic_." He instructs to her spitefully and then looks back at him, "Day one and you've impressed me. Ever done that before?"

He shakes his head slowly and Scutus sighs. Being silent usually means a lack of a spine.

"Being humble I see. That'll kill you here. Go back to bed and no one try _anything_ again." He turns back to the boy, "You've made me reconsider plans for lessons tomorrow." He says with a grin before the lights shut off and he exits.

The others, seeing no more entertainment or reason to tire themselves, head towards their bunks again. The girl gingerly heads towards her bunk but not before collecting her weapon again. The boy moves to head towards his own but turns, noticing the Togruta staring blatantly at him. They exchange looks for a moment before he turns and slips back into his bunk, closing his eyes as the hollowness returns.

"AAARRGGGHH!"

The sounds of the Zabrak screaming echo through the square, padded room as Scutus presses the electric prod further into his charring abdomen. He removes it after a moment and the student gasps loudly in agony while Scutus turns to a Twi'lek, the blue one.

"Susna. Your turn. Push me off or burn." He chuckles as he makes a dramatic motion with the prod as the Zabrak crawls away. "Oh, I forgot."

He lashes the prod across the Zabrak's crown of horns and he grunts as several of them sever, the tops burning and steaming. They lack nerve endings but the lack of horns amongst males can be seen as…less desirable for the females. He glares and froths as he rises chest to chest to the instructor. Scutus rolls his eyes and tatters before tapping his chest as though he was a child.

"That hatred. Use it next time. Hatred makes you strong. It feels good doesn't it? Almost arousing. Almost like a wine that makes you feel like you can snap the life out of everyone who crosses you. Learn to control it, and you _will._ Failure to do so and you'll burn till you die."

The Zabrak lowers his head and limps towards the rest of the students before Susna stares blankly at him, her deep blue face removed of any trace emotion. Without warning, Scutus swipes his arm forced and she hisses as she throws both hands forward. His movement is frozen but it makes her slide backwards several steps. He stops and nods in approval before stepping past her to motion to another. Then her cries echo through the hall and she drops to her knees. He removes the prod from her lower back and rolls his eyes.

"Never lower your guard. You act like children. Pathetic children."

The boy watches as she gingerly crawls to her knees and limps towards him along with the others. He turns back to the others and he feels his stomach turn unevenly, far worse than last night. The others look unnerved but not exactly frightened. Scutus inspects his prod before nodding to the group.

"Partner up and push against each other with everything you have. Now you will hopefully lock into place, so that you push with equal force and thus, no one falls. If your opponent pushes you down, I'll do more than prod. Once locked, I'll say when you can release. Go!" He barks and they move.

Soon everyone is paired, usually with the person next to them as barely anyone knows any names so far. The boy turns to his side and see the Togruta staring at him blankly and he nods softly.

"Not much of a talker." He states but she still says nothing and he sighs.

He moves about seven metres in front of her and they both raise their hands before pushing forward. He grits his teeth as the pressure travels from his hands and smashes into his arms, ripping and tearing them. His knees buckle and he slides back several inches before he pushes back more. She remains as still as a stone, not registering the increase of the force against her but it's enough to stop him from falling.

A few minutes turns into over two hours. Scutus remains completely silent as he watches his students. Most of them are breathing heavily and their clothes cling desperately to their bodies. The burning in their muscles is making them boarder on either vomiting, passing out or both. The boy pants loudly, the pressure in his chest becoming painful as he struggles to breathe. Even his partner is coated in a sheen of sweat. Her chocolate eyes are flickering side to side as she tries to find more strength to add but even she has her limits apparently.

A faint hum causes Scutus to reach into his pockets and pull out a communicator. He sighs and nods before the Chiss drops to his knees, spasming in exhaustion and his partner, a green female Twi'lek, stops as well.

"I'm required with the grandmaster. Shower and meet the archiver for your first history lesson." He heads towards the door but passes the Chiss first.

His places his middle and index fingers together as something purple trickles and zaps around them. He stares at them and hums before savagely thrusting them at the Chiss as a thin stream of lightning pours out of them. His screams and wails fill the room as his slightly unhuman skeleton shines in and out of view. Several of the students lean in, clearly fascinated by seeing the technique in real life. The unique curves of his skull are shown for brief moments before Scutus stops, leaving him unconscious and literally steaming.

"A nod doesn't mean stop!" He snaps before turning to the others. "You will await explicit orders. You are soldiers. You are not Sith yet. Remember that." He warns before heading out.

The students slowly but surely head out and silently cross the large staircase of the temple after collecting some of their cleaner clothes gingerly, their sore muscles making it hard to move. The majority of the temple spreads out from the central staircase, meaning that it is easy enough to get to places as long as you know the floor and basic direction of the place. The showers aren't particularly big. More for practical reasons than for luxury or relaxation. Several areas for lined up stalls with the middle being a place for washing hands or needing a reflection to shave and whatnot. Several of the students notice a lack of gender separation as the majority of them are being used already with a human girl and guy leaning on the centre in a conversation. The male's eyes widen and then smirks at their entrance.

"More fun, N'ra. There's more of you than last year." He laughs and his friend rolls her eyes.

"Any more than _two_ would be more than last year. Wonder how many will last this week."

"Maybe seven." He replies and they share a low chuckle.

The injured Zabrak ignores them and pushes past them, heading to a free stall slowly as his darkened flesh prevents him from going fast. He pauses and then turns around, looking at Susna.

"Medic." He grunts before heading out with her at his heel.

"Must've met the prod." The older male laughs. "Got a few of us too. Did any of you sob?"

The girl from last night slides past him and smirks as he coughs and splatters from a moment. He hisses at her and snaps his head to the rest of them.

"Be careful. Kids like you have more to worry about than just Jedi or training." He growls before storming out.

His friend rolls her eyes and collects her things, silently following behind him. Everyone splits off and tries to find an empty stall, most of them apart from the others. The boy heads towards the end of the area, preferring privacy as usual only to find the stall door jammed. He frowns as he tries to rip it open only to feel it move of its own accord and slam into his cheek. He gasps and frowns while rubbing his cheek before seeing a larger figure slide past him.

"Stay." The Togruta orders before turning and places her clothes on a bench and places her back to him.

Soft orange skin is exposed as she pulls off her slender padded chest armour before his cheeks ripen and he closes it, shifting uncomfortably. It was only her back but still…Several minutes pass and he taps his feet impatiently before he feels the door open. Her skin is softened somewhat and he notices that the white of her horns is actually _throbbing_. He raises a brow and she huffs.

"The moisture is absorbed." She mutters before he feels himself being shoved into the stall.

Confused, he awkwardly places his items in perfect alignment on the bench, making sure nothing is out of place.

"Surely he was manipulating you." Scutus scoffs as he leans back in the red leather seat. "He wants the Sith presence lowered so the military has a stronger control on politics. If the rumours about the Emperor are true then-"

"Careful." Verrik warns as he leans on his desk, "You don't know who might be listening." He smirks while his underling rolls his eyes. "Have the older students placed with a master as soon as possible."

Scutus sighs and rubs his eyes in defeat.

"And the newer recruits who got here _last night?_ "

"Do you trust the recruiters?"

"What?"

"Do you trust them?" He repeats evenly, interlacing his fingers.

"Yes. To an extent." He admits and Verrik grins.

"Good. Have them sent on the first trial." He says and Scutus laughs before frowning.

"You think…We have a numbers problem already. This? This will KILL them. I respect power but I believe power must be worked on to be improv-"

"So you lack belief in their raw power? Then why the hell are they here?!" He shouts as he slams his fists into the table, "We are not care givers! We teach the strong! They are worthy enough to survive. ONLY THEM. Our creed is absolute. It must be if we are to survive. If they cannot survive this trial, they have no right to be Sith."

Scutus pauses and falls into line, nodding slowly. Both of them were experienced military men although only one took their position at the temple by choice. They both knew who had the power, regardless of even opening their military records. It didn't help that Scutus was there during a skirmish of Verrik's a decade ago. Ever since then he'd be wary of the man, especially after watching the way he dealt with those who couldn't follow orders.

Verrik gestures to the door and Scutus hurries out, immediately heading towards the archives.

"…so the graves are homes of our forbearers and those that think the dead cannot be felt have a habit of joining them." The stern Twi'lek finishes, returning the holocron listing the graves to its slot.

Most of the humans were surprised at the species but they knew better than to keep their mouths open. Even the girl from the night before knows how to be silent occasionally. The boy manages to absorb most of the information, aided by the fact the archiver would literally strike anyone whose eyes would wander. The others around him are either studious as well or have swollen cheeks. The Togruta holds a stony expression as usual. To his surprise, she waited outside for him only to leave silently once he exited the stall. She hasn't said anything since. The Zabrak and Susna had returned with bacta patches but missed the chance to shower, something which clearly irritated them both. The Chiss still hasn't been seen yet.

"Now, the history of this temple is rather-"

"Unneeded."

Scutus heads through them and whispers into his colleague's ear. The Twi'lek murmurs in confusion but moves anyway, clearly content to observe his dark secrets alone once more. Scutus' expression is far more dire though. It's a cross between fear and rage, something the boy was becoming accustomed to here already.

"We believe in a practical approach. Fire is needed to make you stronger. It's what separates us from those apathetic studiers on Dantooine. We have decided to move up the first trial by several months…to your second day." The last part trails off, as if even he can't understand what he's saying.

Several of the students fidget in excitement.

"You will pair off. In fact, with the person you were practicing against. And you," he points to the green Twi'lek who was with the Chiss, "Go with them." He points to the boy and inwardly he contemplates death.

 _Uneven number._ He shifts uncomfortably as he taps his arms.

"You will each enter a tomb and retrieve an object from the inside. I'm not going to tell you what it is because if you can't work out that it's what you need to collect, you're an idiot not worth the air I am forced to supply you with. You will leave tomorrow at eight and if you come back without it, I'll kill you. If you try to escape the planet, feel free. I don't care. Just don't waste my time. Die in a cave, actually. Less insurance issues with the accountants. Dismissed." He grunts and walks off, clearly not in a good mood.

Mutters and grunts echo in the archive and the boy rubs his eyes. The feeling of being pushed into a wall against your own will suddenly returns and he chews his lips as he thinks his new situation over.

"I would imagine you would relish at this chance." The Togruta says softly at his side and he resists the urge to scoff.

"Not all of us _wanted_ to relish this." He freezes and eyes her, "I trust you not to repeat that?"

She nods stiffly and he sighs inwardly before turning to face her.

"Marcos." He states evenly and she looks confused before straightening a bit.

"Lyris." She replies and he nods evenly.

"Nimus."

They both turn to the emerald Twi'lek and he bites back a groan. _Why am I even hear? What hell did I miss out on for this?_


	2. The First Trial

A/N: Welcome back. I don't know how often I'll update, to be honest I think I'll just see how people respond and review I guess haha. I'm kinda casual about this kinda stuff so I try not to draw myself into a panic or pressure others.

Also, in regards to rating, I'll keep it this way because of the violence and themes and swearing but I don't know where I stand on adding graphic smut. Please put your input in on it because I won't add something only a few want when the others don't feel comfortable about it or vice versa. So say how you feel and for the love of god, don't add anything weird :P.

I also lack an editor so please forgive any typos.

Have fun

No.2: The First Trial

The unbarring heat of the sun is almost a hell of itself. Even so early in the morning it's boiling worse than the possible afterlife of each of the growing group. The tense group are sitting or standing on the far edge of the main valley and the start of the Valley of the Sith. Some of them try to use the side of the barracks as shade but to no avail. Others attempt to do the same with the stacks of vibroblades next to them but they offer a similar result. The blades are thin and light but clearly stock standard. They hold nothing to an actual saber and are identical, proving they are mass produced. Not even the troops use them, implying they may just be for the students. The thin nature also provides extremely little cover from the sun as it continues to burn them.

The Chiss still hasn't returned…

Marcos rolls his shoulders back stiffly, still feeling sore after yesterday's training regime. The archive was followed by another lesson, this one with a basic use of vibroblades in a desperate attempt to catch them up for the trial. The students knew this wasn't planned or being received well. The reactions of their instructors and Scutus was far too obvious for that. Something was making them panicked about Sith production, that much was obvious. Perhaps their numbers truly had dwindled recently.

The war had originally been a seemingly endless succession of victories for the Empire. Almost a third of Republic territory was given up within three years and the sheer number of Imperial ships and troops doubled their counterparts. Then the previous Grand Admiral got arrogant, a common trait amongst the former military command. The key word being _former_ as the Dark council killed the entire military board and everyone involved in the former Grand Admiral greatest moment: the Siege of Tython. It was without a doubt a complete disaster. It gave the Republic such momentum that they used the chaos and weakness from that particular front of the war to wedge a massive cut into Imperial space. Within a single _month_ the Empire lost twelve fleets, seven of which were lost during the siege.

The attack was simple enough. Cut off the Jedi from the temple and cripple their source of crystals in that region of space. It was also a type of holy land for them as well, due to the history of the Jedi being significantly impacted due to that world. Removing the three fleets would also weaken them greatly in that sector. It wasn't three. It was twelve. Mixed with surface to orbit defensives on the moons as well as the planets in the solar system, the entire thing was a nightmare within minutes. The loss of two fleets in thirty minutes should've called the retreat. But the ego of a man who'd only known victory refused it. The battle lasted four hours. The Republic lost one and a half fleets and the remaining ships were used to wipe out system after system until they were cut off deep into Sith space. It was a defeat that gave them the strongest chance yet and everyone knew it. To the point where neutral states were shifting and the Hutts being so arrogant as to _bet_ on the Republic winning. No one knew _how_ they miscalculated so many ships. The most common theory is that a spy leaked the wrong intel but that was never proven. The Empire doesn't like admitting it can be snuck into and _toyed_ with.

Marcos rubs his temples at the thought of the war. It's not a good thing, not now. It never was but it's reached a new low point. Rumours of the Mandalorian tribes uniting and amassing their forces again had also surfaced. Normally, a quick invasion handled the brutes. One issue: The system was one of the ones cut into by the Republic, meaning getting to them is suicide now. All because of one arrogant man and his refusal to recognise defeat…

"You look worried." Lyris states instead of asking and he turns to her.

She's wearing similar clothing to him. A cloak and cowl to hide their skin from the boiling sun and sand and the same padded green armour from earlier while he's wearing a simple long sleeved grey shirt with plates on his forearms, shins and lower stomach. The equipment is from the temple loadout, most of which is barely usable. They prefer spending resources on the higher ranking students who they believe have a chance at surviving.

He shrugs, making sure the grouping students are far away enough.

"Curious about why the teachers are suddenly panicked. I know the war's not going good but…"

He pauses and she nods, understanding his point. She also knows this was clearly a desperate choice made by them and she crosses her large arms. Her face is a few inches above his but her dual horns add further height. She's also far broader than he is, with noticeable muscle forming all over her. Marcos isn't fat or underweight but that's the issue in one way. He's normal with no muscle or experience like the group of Zabrak or Lyris. He knows he wasn't picked because of his physique per say, but even with his force powers, would he have been picked if the war was going smoother?

"I am surprised I was chosen to be honest." She says and he turns to her, "My people were in the Republic space. Not a core world but still within. The Sith only had control over my world for a year but that was enough to…find me." She tilts her head, "My tribe had managed to kill a Sith inquisitor and they returned to see who did it."

"And who'd they find?" He asks in actual interest but she immediately clamps up and her stony exterior returns.

He sighs but is somewhat grateful that he could get _that_ much from her. His spine tightens and he feels a pressure in his stomach again before turning to see Nimus standing there silently, head towards her feet. _How long have you been there?_ He thinks in slight concern. She's also wearing a cloak but a much thinner one, no doubt explaining the panting and uncomfortable expression she has. Beneath it is a simple dark red garment with some leather here and there and her lekku are covered with some cloth, probably to protect them from the sun.

"Gather now or piss off forever." Someone grunts irritably.

Scutus storms past, literally pushing the short human to his knees as he heads to the front of the group. He's wearing imperial military armour, a mixture of grey steel and a black plated material the troopers wear while his saber rests to his side. His frown deepens as he eyes everyone. His mood clearly hasn't improved.

"Aww. Are some of you upset about the heat? I have an alternative." He shrugs while activating his blade, "No? Then suck it up. Each group will be given a map to a tomb." He says as several assistants hand each group a tiny circular device, "You will enter said tomb. Then you will retrieve what you need to and then you will return and be worth my time. Deal? Why did I just ask that? I don't care. You will each have a vibroblades for protection. Now if you don't think one day is enough to know how to use them, you are correct." He grunts, almost to himself as everyone slowly reaches in to grab one, "You will need to control the force and use your feelings to push it. _Hard._ Now don't return without your objects. Now go. Leave."

He nods behind the group and everyone looks back to see troopers raising their blasters. Everyone hastily gets up and march across the sand, splitting off towards the walls of the valley. All of the tombs are cut into the rock, much like the temple that came several hundred years afterwards in an attempt to form a pseudo tradition. The valley itself holds thousands if not millions of graves as well. However, almost all of them are unmarked and the course of time has made it impossible to even find them. All of them are reminders of the dozens of wars and battles fought on this world. Either civil or against someone, Korriban always held a major part in the fate of the Sith.

The trio are mostly silently, with Lyris making the odd comment on the direction they should head to as she's the one with the map. It's nothing more than a tiny holomap giving a rough image of the valley with a trail heading towards one of the tombs in the middle. Marcos attempts to handle the sun more than anything, the blade strapped to his back adding more unwanted heat. Nimus is doing the worst out of everyone. She's panting loudly and her emerald skin has dark purple patches as if they are bruises as opposed to sunburn. She drags each step as they all desperately try to head to the shade of the tomb as fast as possible. The group seems to be the one silent ones though. Shouting and fighting can clearly be heard as tiny figures in the far distance battle the deformed creatures that roam the sand. K'lor'slugs, deranged slugs with pincers and legs and a spiralled mouth full of teeth. They aren't a threat alone but there's no such thing as an alone one, however. The group do their best to ignore the desperate screaming and shouting.

Several more minutes pass in silence, the heat making all of them cranky and highly irritable despite being very close to the tomb. It's a simple square cut into the rock but the markings around it seem less than pleasant. Lyris resists the urge to strike at the Twi'lek for being slightly slower than her. Marcos holds back the urge to scream at the situation all together and strike everything around him in a petty attempt at rage. Then they notice they're the only ones moving. Lyris bites her lips hostilely as she rips her head to the side.

"Girl, what are y…"

She's frozen where she's standing, her jaw quivering slightly and her leg reveals why. A set of armour with a skeletal hand from above it is tightly clutching it and slowly pulling her into the sand. Its joints are releasing a gentle blue aura that's seeping around it and leaking into the girl, freezing her entire body. Marcos' mouth gapes in a mixture of shock, confusion and horror while Lyris draws her blade.

"I wouldn't." He murmurs as he looks at the ground around them but she ignores him.

She lashes at the arm and the blade easily slices through the armour and bones. The aura fades instantly and the bones drop off as Nimus shakes her head softly, feeling her numb leg feel warm again…and then boiling. She eeps and rips her leg out of the burning sand and steps away from it. Silence surrounds them and Marcos' spine tightens as he slowly draws his blade. Lyris stares at him.

"What can you feel?" She asks.

The sand shifts and the land around her feet moves as something snarls. A torn and deformed skull shoves upwards, forcing its body to move upwards. It's a strained and violent movement which clearly isn't easy for the corpse. Its armour is plated steel and heavily damaged but not as much as the skull. A clear cut with a saber was made along its face where a large cavern it. Probably the killing strike. The figure rises on two legs and reaches forward with a dusty and sandy cylinder but it snarls at it. The ancient saber is missing its top half. Whoever it faced clearly knew where to strike.

The group backs off before Lyris strikes first. She lacks any tactics or finesse. Rather, belting would be a more accurate word. She slams her blade into the body over and over, growling savagely as the body loses chunk after chunk of armour and bone. She strikes at the bony legs and then as it drops she effortlessly severs the head. Stepping back, she readjusts her hood while panting. The heat makes any movement hard, let alone that.

"We need to get into the tomb. Now." Marcos says and Lyris stares at him, almost seething.

"Scared of conflict?" the sand shifts again, "You seemed like the type to-"

"Lyris." He says, simply pointing behind her.

The sounds of snarling make her turn as the sand is thrown around, revealing more armoured bodies. This time, a saber actually is ignited from within the sand as its master rises after it, missing the other arm. Several others, all broken and horribly killed with glowing joints, rise as well with weapons charged. Marcos stares at his blade and then to the real weapons and shares a concerned look with the Twi'lek. She turns back to the entrance of the tomb and they both begin to head that way while Lyris refuses to move.

"There's only seven." She spits.

"With _lightsabers._ There's a noble fight and then there's suicide." Marcos counters while jogging back.

The heat makes his legs burn and his mouth suddenly becomes as dry as the sand. He almost dry heaves once as he gets closer. To his surprise Lyris sprints past him, actually beating Nimus to the entrance. They all enter panting but turn to see they're still being followed. Marcos almost faints while Lyris holds up her blade. The entrance is pure black, with the entrance being the only source of light. Which means the chances of forming a decent tactic are none. And then the two pillars holding the top of the entrance shuffle. And then vibrate. And then crack horribly before snapping at the base and allowing the top to collapse, sealing the entrance in thick rubble. The three of them cough loudly before Lyris huffs.

"You should have waited for them to enter it and _then_ collapsed it on them." She lectures Macros who frowns.

"I didn't-"

"I panicked." Nimus rebukes as she reaches into her cloak.

The others look at her in surprise and Lyris forms a shadow of tiny smile before pulling out a tiny light for them to use. The air is far cooler, almost cold but the air is thin. Very thin. Marcos pulls out his own light to see the entrance hall is entirely empty. The walls aren't even decorated or cut smoothly. It's also surprisingly thin, so much that the three of them would struggle to move if they were side to side. It lacks any sign of decoration or importance and could easily be mistaken for a natural cave, if it isn't one. This was clearly a swift burial of whoever it was. That or they were clearly frowned upon. He turns to see Nimus hold a lekku, pouring some drops of water on a purple patch and sighing in relief as it soothes it.

Lyris matches forward, hand on both blade and light while Marcos follows with his own blade resting on his shoulder. Nimus is the last to move, pushing the cloth over the lekku again before joining them. Marcos shifts uncomfortably. The silence isn't awkward, it's unpleasant. Like its fertiliser for the horrible cold growing in his stomach again. Each step gets heavier, like his body is desperately telling him to get out of there while he still can. Even Lyris seems unsettled, clutching her weapon tightly as she scans the rooms for anything that could possibly be a threat. Out of all of them, Nimus seems to be the most controlled for once, preferring to study the walls and floor carefully. After several minutes of moving through the tiny passageway they finally stop at a door. Lyris looks for an opening and grunts, resorting to try to shove it with her shoulder.

"It's _stone."_ Macros smiles, allowing himself a brief respite into humour while Nimus takes his light and scans the edge of the door, mumbling to herself.

Lyris scoffs at her but notices she's holding the light to several tiny glyphs around the door. About a dozen of them are scattered around and appear to have been delicately cut in to appear as small as possible. After looking at each of them Nimus steps back and chews her lip.

"I get the implication that you can read it." Marcos drawls in his low tone.

"Ah…Maybe."

"Maybe as in…" Marcos inquires and she flushes a darker shade of green.

"I know one word."

"Oh for Creator's sake." Lyris groans but Nimus continues.

"Push." She shrugs and taps the symbol at the bottom of the right side.

"We tried that and..."

Marcos ignores her and reaches out, concentrating for a moment as he feels some pressure form in his wrists as the force leaves it. The stone slab slides up immediately and he grins softly while Lyris stiffens before marching forward. He goes to join them but as soon as he lets go it lowers again. Nimus thankfully holds it up and allows him to pass with a thankful nod.

The next room is clearly the main one, highlighting the fact this tomb really wasn't developed with much effort if it only has one room and one door. The room is spherical with hundreds of icons lining the walls. The floor is merely sand while the centre of it is lined with a throne made from some massive animal skull with thick teeth jutting out to the sides. Resting on it is a human skeleton but a damaged one like the others. Its lower jaw is completely missing with a metal plate resting there instead. The armour is a thick red leather and a cloak wrapped around the shoulders but it's all torn and faded with time. Marcos looks at the wrists and frowns. Chains. The body is chained to the throne with nails in the _feet._ Whoever this person was, they were not allowed to leave this tomb.

"This isn't a tomb." Nimus says softly.

"It's a cell." Lyris nods in agreement, slowly heading down to the bottom.

"No wai-"

Before Nimus can stop her a sphere of purple forms around the throne and violently thrusts the Togruta into the wall. Marcos swiftly reaches out and manages to help her hover for a moment and then drops her away from the wall. She nods her thanks while Nimus starts looking at the glyphs. _Barely know where to start_. She hums for a moment before trying to find _anything_ she recognises until she taps one…amongst hundreds.

"Shame." She explains and Lyris raises a hairless brow.

"How do you know that particular word but not the rest?" She asks only for the Twi'lek to lower her head and stay silent.

The others exchange nonplussed looks before Marcos levitates a rock and hurls it at the throne only for the bubble to appear again and shatter it. He chews his lip in thought as Nimus returns to looking at the icons, slowly making herself around the large sphere. Lyris just sits down and crosses her arms, thinking to herself. Nimus soon clears her throat.

"I don't think we _can_ get to the body." She says and Lyris scoffs.

"It's clearly why we're even here. What else in this entire room is here?" She cuts in harshly but Marcos turns to Nimus.

"What's it say?" He asks and she shrugs.

"I can only make out a handful of words but it's mostly _insults._ Shame. Liar. Traitor. The word 'forever' comes up a lot though. Every line has it. I don't think the current Sith made the shield."

"Meaning?" Lyris asks softly for once.

"Meaning they didn't put it up which begs the question of why it's still here. Wouldn't they want to see the body? So if they haven't been able to get into it the entire time it's been here, why send people on their second day to try? Makes no sense." Marcos explains with a small shrug and Nimus nods.

"This is old. Older than the temple actually. People have clearly been in here but if the body is still here…" Nimus halts before continuing, "There could be another room. One that they know can be accessed." She shrugs, "I don't really have any alternative theories and I don't wish for death." She frowns, thinking of what will happen if they don't return with the mystery object.

Lyris gets up and starts tapping the walls, pushing and shoving her palms against them before Nimus and Markus do the same. After several moments they all grunt. No secret entrance or lever. _Maybe if we could actually read the texts…_ Marcos sighs before walking over to Lyris on the other side, cutting through the rim and walking straight through the sand. His foot shifts but not of his own accord and he frowns as he looks down, feeling his feet sink swiftly.

"Gu-"

His shout fades as he grunts in pain, the blunt force of falling onto pavement echoing through his bones. He coughs, trying to clear his lungs of the sand and dust while the others call after him. He looks up and sees a purple aura holding up the sand above him. It's the only light in the entire area but it offers enough. The walls are lined with pillars that are carved with stunning curves and swirls and other images that are unlike those of other Sith markings. Dozens of them line a seemingly endless corridor with no doors or other entrances in sight. The sand shifts onto him and he sees Lyris yelp before quickly dusting herself off and acting natural. He smirks only to be glared at while Nimus drops in, squeaking as she dusts her cloak off. Her eyes widen at the pillars while Lyris focusses on the barrier above them.

"These aren't Sith…" Nimus murmurs as she traces the spirals with her finger.

"So where's the object?" Lyris asks but no one answers.

She sighs but closes her eyes, shutting off the hum from the aura above them and ignoring the cold while trying to sense something. Suddenly she forgets the others as her heart clamps down, terror cut into her chest with sharp knives as it makes breathing difficult. She huffs and coughs as she tries to refocus but images of elders and the pain of burning and slapping and kicking and clawing amongst the flesh. The sounds of a scared voice shouting alone as the tearing and ripping never ceases. The boiling feeling sinking along her toes like socks only to melt into the skin and try to dissolve the very bones. The shouting gets louder; her ear canals threaten to burst as she clamps her quivering fingers on them, hissing. Macros turns to her and sees her frothing literally and goes to shake her shoulder.

"No…Enough."

"Lyris? What's-"

"Enough!" She screams, grabbing her by the throat and slamming him into a wall.

He coughs and sees his vision blur as her eyes open, revealing a tiny tint of yellow that convulses and constricts as she hisses at him. Nimus rushes to them but Lyris holds out her other palm, shoving her with the force and roughly sending her hurdling into the end of the passageway. Both of them returning to looking at each other, not noticing Nimus sink into the sandy areas and vanishing.

"Ly…Lyris…" Marcos pleads desperately but she tightens her grip, the yellow growing.

He chews his lip, thinking it over before remembering seeing something once done to him. He bites down on his lip hard, forming blood in his mouth before spitting on her face and pushing at her with everything he can muster. The spit distracts her but the force push holds enough impact to send her colliding into the wall, where she stays motionless. Panic runs through him and he stumbles forwards only to see her _sink_ into the ebony stone wall and vanish. He drops to his knees, confused beyond his mind.

"I didn't know…we could…What?"

A faint chill runs down the Twi'lek's back, causing her to shiver and cup her legs to her chest as she awakens. The area is pitch black aside from a tiny light emanating from a corner at the top. On torn and worn legs, she gets up and groans at the dull pain in her chest. Thinking back, she grunts softly to herself thinking about Lyris. _Togruta…Always so pushy. Just because she's the biggest. Her Lekku are tiny._ She pauses and looks down at her own, placed at her back and held up by a band so they only touch the middle of her back. Then she eyes her chest and hips and sighs. Her bust is perfectly healthy for her age. Whilst not perfect, still very healthy and nothing to be ashamed off. There was a reason why her people were captured so often. The blonde human's comment wasn't that off base. She shakes her head, thinking back to their Lekku sizes. _Doesn't have to compensate though._

She slowly steps forward and inspects the large room. It's dark and littered with shadows making it hard to figure anything out. What appears to be stone tables and chairs with a massive slab on the far side. She nervously touches the tip of a Lekku before freezing. The air loses all feeling and temperature. Her blood loses warm and _drags_ along her veins. Millions of cells cutting into her as a faint jeering and booming chuckle enters her hearing passages. She stops breathing at the noise as it gets louder and louder before she steps back, immersed in bright lights and loud and cruel cheering. The tables and seats are filled with Weequay, Gamorreans, Quarrens and humans all drinking and sneering at her, licking their lips. Horrible music is playing in an attempt to sound like something to bop to while centre of the room is crowded with more suspicious people leering at the Twi'lek. She looks past them and also tries to run.

A large, calloused slug creature is staring at her lecherously with large orange eyes and slitted black pupils. The Hutt snarls at her as it takes another puff of its Hookah and nods while growling her. A Weequay next to it sneers and laughs cruelly before gesturing to the girl. A droid next to it translates.

"Bring her on her tummy and have them spread."

She feels her fingertips twitch as her arms are tightly held by to creatures and pushed towards the slug. Her vision begins to blur as she desperately digs her feet into the ground so roughly so threatens to snap her toes.

Lyris rolls onto her back and growls in fury as she rises to her feet, staring at her surrounds with darkening eyes. It's an empty corridor with large stone coffins lining the wall. A tiny light at the end of the passage shows and open door and she huffs while marching forward. Wind gently caresses her hearing canal and she ignores. Then it enters it. The sounds of gentle sobbing make her stop dead in her tracks. Her lip quivers as the sobbing turns into violent screams and she clenches her eyes shut tightly, allowing her not to notice the door sliding shut and the coffins crack silently, sand slowly piling at their base.

She drops to her knees, choking back a sob as the images cut into her eyes. She tries to black it out but they refuse to. They won't go. The repeat over and over again. A kick to the face. Being held down while a horn is traced with a dagger. Blood. So much blood. Enough to choke on. Enough to coat your eyes and never let any light pierce them. Enough to never let any warmth in bed form before it'll always be there. Just like the screaming. Never ending, only being duller or louder. It's like someone who never sleeps. It's merely night or day, never restful.

The coffins silently turn to sand and skeletons wearing armoured robes that are untouched exit. Their joints and even eyes sockets are coated in the blue aura that holds the six bodies together. The sounds of them unclipped their weapons from within their robes makes the Togruta pause. Slowly rising to her feet she turns and pauses, seeing to the six figures. She rolls back her shoulders and bares her teeth, going to grab behind her but freezes. Her blade isn't with her. She steps back and even attempts to push open the door with the force but fails. She sighs and glares at them, clenching her fists as their sabers activate. She takes a step forward and then lashes to the side as the first body slashes downwards.

Marcos eventually gets up, massaging his jaw as he thinks to himself. _They're both gone…How…I…Crap._ He walks over to the sandy region where Nimus was and places his hand through it but feels solid stone. He pushes away the sand and sighs, closing his eyes after seeing there is in fact stone pavement. _Where are you then?_ The sound of creaking makes him snap around and reach for his weapon. Sand pours away from the stone and reveals the outline of a door that pushes forward and slides into the ground. He looks away, awaiting something to come through but after a moment nothing does. Looking around in a paranoid manner, he steps forward and enters it. The room is dark aside from a light in the middle of the room where a pedestal is. He looks around and takes note of how small the room actually is. Like the chamber above this, the squared room is lined with hundreds of markings and ancient words but without Nimus they meant nothing. Even with her they largely meant nothing.

The black pedestal is made from the same stone as the pillars outside and reaches his midsection but only has one line of markings. Below them peaks his interest though. An engraving of a striking helmet with a sideways visor is cut elegantly into the stone. Resting on it is a lightsaber. No, rather the parts of a former saber. The hilt has been sliced into two parts which are placed an inch or so part, revealing a hovering crystal with a cracked surface. Marcos paces around it, seeing no other markings or symbols. He grabs his weapon and attempts to poke the relic. It manages to touch it without any shields or traps. But he frowns as swiftly as he smiled. The object refuses to budge a single millimetre. He places the blade down and chews his lip in thought. He stares at his gloved hand and sighs.

Against his better judgement, he reaches forward to touch the damaged crystal. The tiny clear object is soon caressed by the leather digits but he halts. His fingers become numb and his mouth becomes dry with anxiety as he violently yanks his arm back. Nothing happens. He grabs his arm and hisses as he savagely pulls it back with everything he has, the muscles in his right arm threatening to rip with such force. A purple aura licks at his glove before swimming around it, covering it like a second glove. Then it vibrates. A searing heat burns around it as the aura turns to tiny purple flames at that lick and hiss around the melting material as the boy screeching in agony. He pulls back harder than ever as the burning agony sinks into his very joint as it rips and tears away his flesh while he watches in horror.

"EEGGHHAAHH!"

The sounds of his torment echo though the empty halls, not a single soul hearing his desperate misery.

The jeering and drunken shouts and groping and touching and hisses and licking and biting. It encompasses the shrieking and shaking Twi'lek as she's violently thrown onto the cold pavement in front of the dais. She throws her arms against them but they're too imposing and her frame is tiny compared to the thick arms of the others. She's placed on her stomach and roughly held there as they push her rear into the air.

"Twi'lek whore." They jeer into her canals, making her sob, "You deserve to be here."

"No!" She bellows, writhing and bucking against them only to make them laugh at her louder.

"You have no place. You should've been taken here like planned." They shout, spit flying on her as she feels her robes being parted.

Her eyes widen and a flicker of yellow forms as she feels her trousers get roughly yanked down, exposing her undergarments to the slug as it licks its lips. Its tail wiggles softly and begins to slither downwards towards her. Her teeth clenches as her stomach grows hot. Boiling. Her mouth froths as she breathes heavily, digging her nails into her palms to the point of blood. Blood leaks from her lips as she bites into the flesh, her eyes dilatating.

The thick, crimson liquid in her palms stop flowing. The feeling becomes numb as her body acts on its own. Clenching her fists again, a savage shriek exits her lips as she slams them down into the ground. The digits of her hands shake as the sounds of horrified screaming and agony is a dozen different languages echo from the room. Then silence. Then the cold.

The blood coating her body from the former inhabitants only adds to the shivering as she sobs, curling into a ball while crying desperately into her arms. The darkness doesn't fade, not even in the warmth of her arms. Her skin is icy and crisp, lacking the previous warmth of the desert. She tries to wipe away the clear liquid on her cheeks but they keep flowing despite trying to stifle them. Then a burning light cuts into her closed eyes. She slowly opens them and moves her damp arms to see something glowing in the corner of the room. There's no bodies or light or anything. Just completely shadow filled as previously discovered but something is adding to it.

She slowly creeps up and sneaks towards it, looking at the tiny light that slowly fades. She carefully pulls her trousers up before inspecting the tiny light, seeing a crystal hovering slightly in the air. She nervously reaches out, lacking any energy to form another sob as she sees it float into her hand and stop shinning, revealing a pure and clear crystal about half the size of her pinkie. She holds it to her eyes but hears more creaking. She hastily spins around in panic only to see a door being cut into the wall and then sliding into the ground.

She stares at the crystal before hastily rushing forward, getting out of the room as soon as possible without staring at it again.

Lyris snarls as she slams another body into a wall with the force, snarling as she crushes it tightly with it before turning and grabbing the one behind her and shoving it onto a coffin. It hisses and tries to lash at her with the saber in its hand but she grabs its wrist and pushes it towards the head, severing it. She pants desperately, wobbling backwards as the remaining three effortlessly march onto her. She tried to grab a saber only to feel it turn to dust into her hand and get grabbed around the throat and smashed into the ground. Cuts and scratches coat her skin, likely to get infected due to the sand and dirt caking them. She rolls her tired arms back again, spitting out some blood before giving a weak force push at them. Only one of them budges and that's barely recognisable. It's impossible to focus when the whispering is stroking her, licking her. Forcing her to listen to the screaming and sobbing. Whenever she tries to summon anything more than a decent push the screaming gets so loud her ears hurt and she's forced to her knees where they strike at her.

Her barely manages to duck a saber to her left horn and stupidly punches its head. She hisses and stumbles back, shaking her fist before placing a layer of the force around it and violently striking it again. The skull is dissolved under her touch and she watches as it collapses into a bundle of bones. Her victory is short lived, however, as one of her arms is caught and then her vision blurs as her head collides with the wall. She falls to her rear but growls and smashes her stubby horns into its chest, knocking the saber back and giving her enough time to stumble back and away. She licks her dry lips and places her two palms together, hissing in exhaustion as she throws an arm of two skeletons remaining at each other, making them decapitate each other as she drops to hands and knees. She stares at the ground, almost vomiting as her muscles threaten to give up on her. Drops of sweat are dropping around her as she closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, the burning in her lungs making her wince. The screaming and crying slowly fades, letting her head stop pulsing in agony.

A drawing sound makes her look up and she sees the door finally sink into the ground and she coughs violently as she gets up on her dying legs. Her entire body stings as she pants deeply, desperate to get more air into her broken body.

The room is pure black but rather tiny with nothing more than a pedestal filling in the room. In the centre is a faint glow and she suspiciously nudges forward, glaring around her in case there's more concealed foes. The faint fades, revealing a tiny clear crystal barely viewable from a distance. She looks around one more time before carefully picking it up. Nothing happens. She sighs happily before noticing a door she'd never noticed. Swiftly, she heads through it into a dark, cold corridor.

She resists the urge to shiver as she heads forward only groan and rub her head, massaging her nose as she hears a similar groan. Nimus' robes are coated in blood and she narrows her eyes in concern only to notice it's not _her_ blood. Her cheeks are slippery and she's shivery, clutching her chest. A small object is in her hands and Lyris quickly realises what it is.

"What happened to you?" Lyris pants softly, her shoulders rising and lowering dramatically.

The Twi'lek is silent and looks away but raises her hand, revealing the crystal. Her peer nods in approval and bites back a jab at her bloodied appearance, thinking now's not the best time. Instead, she cups her shoulder.

"You did well. Are you ok?" She asks, more out of necessity than actual compassion, although her concern have a tiny bit of seriousness to it.

Nimus nods softly but is silent again. Lyris opens her mouth to say something when a shriek of pure pain echoes from the room. They both stiffen and Lyris gingerly heads towards the end of the passageway where it gets louder, Nimus silently shaking behind her.

The flames turn his pink skin red and black as he cries in the worst way he has ever experienced. He writhes on the balls of his feet, the bones in his hand feeling like they're being snapped and cut with a boiling knife. It's traced up to his elbow now where the material has long since melted away. His attempts at pulling away all proved futile, draining him of all his energy to the point of him almost falling to his knees multiple times. His eyes are red and raw with boiling tears as they trickle down his cheeks. His lips are red and swollen from biting into them so much in a desperate attempt to ease the pressure and pain in his charring arm. No pain in the rest of his life can possibly compare to this.

Spit from his mouth drops to his feet as his shouts again, the pain in his body burning into his stomach. He grits his teeth tightly as the pressure spreads to his arm and he hisses as he pushes forward. The flames hiss and almost screech as they slow lower around the base. The flames get pushed away from the base but the pain is still present. With one final push the flames vanish and he gasps, falling to the ground and clutching his burns gingerly. The skin is blotted and red and swelling considerably. He bites back the vomit as he notices a faint glow. Coughing up nothing, he slowly gets up and sees a tiny crystal glowing above the saber. Tired and not thinking straight, he uses his normal hand to clutch it instantly. It looks perfectly clear and smooth without a single imperfection. It feels smooth in his hand and a cooling sensation encases his burns.

He looks down and sees the burns and redness ease and turn white and then a normal pink. He pokes and prods and smiles at the lack of pain before turning to inspect the crystal again. It feels…good. The broken relic before is still there, the cracked crystal still resting with its counterparts.

A creaking sound makes him snap his head towards a door appearing. He reaches down for his blade but stops when he sees Lyris and Nimus entering. His mouth gapes as he sees how battered they are but Lyris shrugs. Nimus is silent and clearly unsettled but her eyes linger on the relics before reading the line below it.

"Take it you two got one too?" He asks as he holds his crystal up.

They both raise theirs silently while Lyris looks at the saber curiously.

"If it weren't for the crystals, I'd say we grab this."

"I wouldn't." He counters, gingerly touching his arm and allowing her to guess where the screaming came from earlier. "Any words you recognise?"

Nimus looks up from her feet and stares at the sentence before she points to two signs above the mask.

"Forever. Traitor. Can't work out the verbs I'm sorry." She sighs, rubbing her arms tiredly.

"That mask." Lyris nods to the carving below, "It's Mandalorian. A warrior's helmet. Hasn't been used for centuries. Fits the age of the tomb I guess." She murmurs, more to herself than anything.

"Let's just get out. We've done what we came here for." Marcos suggests and they all nod.

As they head out, Lyris shoots one last gaze at the mask carving before shrugging and heading out with them only to see them both frozen. She quickly realises why as the corridor has shifted and changed, revealing a completely different way from earlier. Unease follows all of them and they exchange looks before Marcos moves first, followed by Lyris and then Nimus. The passage is long with nothing special about it. It's merely a way cut into the rock and sand.

The group remain silent; their bodies lacking the needed energy to converse or even insult each other. Each of them tightly hold their rewards, although Lyris is clearly boarding on passing out. After half an hour of travelling the group reaches a door that descends, revealing a blinding light. They hiss and cover their sensitive eyes as the boiling heat returns. The impressive sight of the temple is over a few hundred metres away and Marcos frowns as he looks away to the door. It immediately rises and reseals, appearing as if there is no door at all.

"We didn't start here." Marcos observes but Nimus moves past him.

"Let's just get some bacta please."


	3. The Sabers

A/N: I'm back. Feel free to R/R but no pressure. As usual, any advice or suggestions feel free. Hope you're having a great week

I might skip a few months in the timeline soon because I am hoping to get into some training/missions as opposed staying here endlessly but I don't want to rush things and give characters powers that are ridiculous so soon. I already feel I rushed the first trial, even with explaining how few numbers they have. Hopefully this adds more context and reasoning for it.

Have fun

No. 3 The Sabers

Verrik's mood had not improved over the past two days. Two thirds of the students managed to retrieve their crystals with the remaining third missing or being found dead. While the fact twelve students had already done so well, which was a marked improvement from the last several years, this also led to more issues. The moment his report was sent to the Dark Council, hell was unleashed. Half of them saw this as a perfect opportunity to add more students and put them through this new, streamlined methods of teaching. The others were far more cautious and wanted to see how this lot went in the next few months. After all, it had only been _three days_.

The first group also led to another issue. They suggested more resources be allocated to the recruiters and having students imported every half instead of every year. This led to the fact they simply lacked the masters to train them. Jedi saw teaching a positive way to leave a legacy on the galaxy. The Sith saw it as a method of holding one back from gaining more power or influence in the Empire. In fact, most masters only took them out of desire to fulfil some scheme of theirs or as a punishment away from their combat duties. If more Sith were ordered or forced to take this doubling number of students, odds are they would be killed within a year. And all the reports and suggestions were being filed straight to him. Needless to say, Verrik was not having a good day.

He swiftly marches past the guards, holding his chin up high as the cape to his armour hangs by his boots, the sound of his lightsaber rattling against his armour echoing across the hall. He eyes the panel to his office and frowns. It's green. He almost growls as he jabs the button and enters, snapping his head side to side.

"Is my office the new cantina?!" He snarls.

A figure in black armour steps away from his books and scrolls and turns to him, the blank expression of his skull shaped mask bearing into him. Verrik clears his throat, not caring about the foot height difference between them or the dark aura _pouring_ off him. The armoured person places his hands on his leather hips, tapping his fingers along his twin sabers.

"You are hard to locate." A heavily processed voice mocks and Verrik flushes in anger.

"What do want, inquisitor?" He says in a low tone, placing his hand on his own saber.

The armour inquisitor barely pays any attention to it. They both knew the power difference between them, making a buff out between them redundant. Instead, he moves closely, his steps slow and made with purpose. Not a single motion is made unnecessarily or to waste, conserving all energy and preparing for literally anything. There's a reason why so few inquisitors have died during the war. Then again, so few survive the training to begin with.

"You sent the newcomers to a trial for the crystals on their second day. The Dark Council wishes to inquire into your insanity."

Verrik scoffs and holds his chest impossibly higher, the military desire to prove his might never quite leaving him.

"I;ve already explained this to them on three occasions. It's to pressure them into being finer warriors from the beginning. The success rate was unprecedented. Twelve came back. They survived. We only accept the powerful into the creed and order." He leans forward on his desk, glaring at the man opposite him, "Pardon me if I value true power within our students over coddling them."

"Training them to use a blade is not coddling them. Pushing them into a task when half of them can barely levitate a holopad is not valuing strength. It is stupidity. We cannot maintain a practical order if we aren't gaining enough masters to uphold it."

"Hmmm. I happen to value a few _powerful_ Sith than many weak ones." He tilts his head sarcastically.

His answer is silence for a few moments before replying.

"I will not be mocked." He says evenly and the room seems to become somewhat colder, "Train them. Speed up the trials if you must but not to the point of madness. While these children may be talented, they'll be dead if they can't even use a blade before making a lightsaber. Beginners and then advanced. I don't care if you speed up the first but it must be completed before the second."

"Who the hell are you to lecture me? What authority do you have?!" He shouts and if the man wasn't wearing a helmet, a smug grin would be revealed.

"The authority of the Dark Council, which you _would_ have if you weren't a military shame." He rises and sweeps towards the exit.

He pauses, feeling the movement before hearing the sound of a lightsaber activating. Verrik glares venomously at the inquisitor while placing the saber within a mere inch of the back of his head. A moment passes where Verrik things every scenario over. Despite always being capable on the battlefield, there's a difference between a Jedi and an Imperial law bringer. Reluctantly, he deactivates his weapon, knowing a defeat before it begins. At least _now…_

"I will not return to talk if you fail to teach again."

And with that, the armoured man silently prowls out into the staircase, leaving a flustered and very aggressive Verrik alone. The metal of his goblet bends and curls as the walls creaked and hiss. With a loud shout, he hurls his weapon into the wall, snarling into the air.

The sound of beeping and mechanical crunks draws the human awake from his desperate slumber. He gasps and coughs slightly and rolls his head to the side, watching his surroundings in confusion. A large corridor is lined with portable cotton walls on wheels. Each cheap bunk is lined with a crap mattress and a single sheet with a screen next to it and a small tube of bacta and other chemicals resting on a bench.

He winces at the pain in his chest and he looks down, seeing a bacta patch on his wrist from the hydration formula they poured into the students as they made it back to the temple. Everyone had major dehydration issues, with some having heatstroke or severely burnt skin. Lyris had to hold still as the medic dug into the small cuts and scraped out the dirt, sand or infection before injecting a small chemical into every cut to make sure they killed the infection. Nimus had major heat issues and passed out the moment they made it to the temple but their group wasn't the worst.

At least they survived, something which clearly didn't happen to at least three pairs. The human blonde made it back but her arm was once again severely broken but this time in three parts. Apparently the pair had a rather nasty drop. Her partner, a mostly silent male human, broke a leg and made it back several hours after she left him. The Zabrak and the shorter human also suffered issues, with the former being cut deeply and the latter gaining some horrid burn. Everyone else held severe wounds in one way or another, enough to fill the medbay up to half.

Marcos sighs and closes his eyes again, feeling the burns from the sun along his face and shoulders and nice. He slowly turns, seeing that his group had its own section with four portable walls being moved around them in a box. He lolls his sore neck to the side and flushes instantly. Nimus is facing her back to him, clearly without clothing as she sits on the edge of the bunk. Her soft back and smooth rear is exposed to him but he soon frowns, seeing the purple blotches coating her spine and shoulders as well. She's clutching the sheet to her front, controlling some level of modesty as Lyris gently places a clear gel from a cup on the purple blotches on the Lekku of the Twi'lek. It's clearly soothing, judging by the blissful expression of the girl but Lyris is far from impressed. She's evidently bored out of her mind. Marcos groans softly as he gets up, touching his bare chest gingerly and wincing at the uncomfortable material of the pants they've given him.

"Nice ass." He murmurs as he steps past them, heading towards a vial of water on a table behind Lyris.

Nimus freezes and blushes, scooting so her cheeks can be hidden as Lyris snorts. He sighs as the cool liquid pours into his mouth and he leans back, noticing the girl clutch the sheet tighter and avoiding eye contact. He gestures to the gel.

"Is that for the heat?" He asks while pointing to the jar and Lyris silently nods as she strokes some into the top of Nimus' head, "Can I burrow some for this?" He gestures to raw skin in his upper half.

"This is for Lekku. The human version is next to your bunk." She explains and he nods, heading over there immediately.

"So…What are they?" He asks as he looks for the cup.

"The Lekku?" Nimus asks and he nods, reaching down and finally finding it, "They're nerved filled sensors and fat. We can communicate with movements of them. They also are very sensitive and help with brain processing." She explains as he stands up, gesturing to the Togruta.

"And yours?"

"The same." She replies without looking up, "The one at the back is mainly for brain development and thinking power, more so than the ones to the front. The horns are for water storage." She says but Nimus peers at her with a tiny smirk.

"And?"

"And nothing." She snaps and Nimus turns her head to the human.

"And the size of which is a good indicator of if they're mating worthy." Nimus whispers to the human.

Lyris pauses, suddenly feeling something extremely rare for her: _insecurity._ She glares at Nimus and flicks the nearest blotch, making the girl shudder and wince violently.

"Heat spots. Her skin type can't handle the sun that well. The red and orange ones are better for that." She mocks and this time Nimus glares at her but the Togruta pays little attention to her.

Marcos slides in front of them and stares wiping the ointment onto his bubbling skin. He moans at the cool feeling and soon coats his upper chest but frowns. His arms are too awkward for reach the back half and the neck and huffs, instead focussing on his face. Nimus pats the area next to her and Lyris pauses, staring at her challengingly. To her surprise she's met with an equally intense gaze but Marcos doesn't notice as sits next to them, passing the jar to Lyris with a grin. She stares at him as if he's committed the most confusing act in her entire life.

"No." She says in shock.

"I don't care. Do it." He says as he closes his eyes and lowers his head, revealing just how red his neck is.

After hearing a very loud sigh, a cooling sensation spreads along the back of his neck and he relaxes. One hand massaging into a Lek and another into a neck, the expression of Lyris is nothing short of pained.

To say the next few months were difficult would be saying the sun is kinda like a lightbulb. Once again, something had happened to the grandmaster to piss him off. This is turn made Scutus somewhat smug as he appeared to have won something or gotten his way in a sense. That being said, the feeling of being rushed and panicked was obvious. The oldest generation of students soon vanished, handed to masters for missions while the remaining members were pushed to crippling levels. Leisure periods went to a third of what they were before Marcos arrived as every waking moment was spent training or studying. It didn't matter who you were or what level you were at, you were just training and nothing less. The pride and ego of the older, more accomplished students had vanished as they were pushed to breaking point as well, with some of them dying in the process to trying to handle the new loads.

The instructors were never sympathetic and some even relished at the chance to push the students in a more brutal method of training. That being said, they seemed extremely cautious of the lethality of their methods now. One blade instructor made the mistake of _accidently_ killing two older students in a single class. The sounds of his agonising death at the hands of the grandmaster made eating dinner in the dining hall all the more unpleasant. Ever since then, even the most savage of teachers always kept a medical droid very close.

Most days were the same. Rise, exercise for an hour, train in blade skills for another hour, eat and shower, study for three hours and then lunch. This was followed by developing experience in training with the force for two hours and then a brief hour break. More blade work was added to finish it off before dinner. The body soon lost feel due to this regiment and the sense of muscles tearing or the flesh burning became a daily occurrence.

Marcos' skinnier appearance had levelled out to a more leaner body with a layer of muscle while Nimus adopted a similar body. Lyris, however, had experienced no increase or decrease of muscle, clearly already used to this level of hardship. But even she has her limits, particularly with studying the force. Macros isn't a particularly advanced swordsmen, proven by the countless burns and cuts he's received over the year. His knowledge of the force is a better weapon to use in his mind, demonstrated by the relative ease of adopting new techniques. Nimus is talented on the academic side of things also with the force but, much like Marcos, is a poor self-defender. She even has a habit of using the force to rebuff her opponents when duelling only to be shocked for breaking the rules.

No one excelled at everything. Even the blonde human, Jez, has her issues with the mechanical side of things. The reason why such a variety of areas was practically being shoved down their throats is due to the belief that a _true_ Sith is a master of all fields and doesn't simply pick or choose passions. That, of course, is a blatant lie as the inability of the instructors being able to cover other fields is clear evidence for it. Soon, another shuttle arrived with another group, far more sooner than everyone was prepared for. Just like them, they experienced their first trial within the week with just over half surviving. While the temple is never crowded, the increase in numbers was becoming noted.

The group was lined in front of a long, metal desk in one of the study halls. This one is completely empty due to the request of the instructor beforehand, banning anyone from entering today. The silence is a common occurrence to them, the privilege of being allowed to talk is an extreme rarity. Marcos taps his arm softly before looking at his shirt, noticing several of the buttons are uneven. His mouth grows dry and he swiftly rearranges them in correct order. Lyris, sitting to his right, notices this behaviour but says nothing. She's been watching his odd habits due to being training partners but his most recurring one is the need to make sure everything is equal. Usually it's not of her interest; his belongings or pads etc. But once he went to the extreme length of crossing an entire hallway just to correct the positioning of one of her shoulder armour sets. After he finished he quickly became shocked and then flustered, vanishing to the training rooms. Once again, she ignores him. Sometimes it's wiser not to say anything that doesn't need to me.

After about ten minutes of silence, the large steel doors open. An older woman, heading through her fifties, with silver hair and purple gloss on her lips with a patch in the middle heading downwards, enters swiftly. Droids enter as well, each holding a synthetic box that's dropped in front of each student before they leave. No one goes to move or explore its contents. They know better by now. She smirks at their obedience.

"Open."

And they do. Inside is a datafile with dozens of random and seemingly unrelated parts of machinery and circuits. Three students, one of which is Nimus, seem to have a very vague idea about what some of them are but no one knows that they're for. Pieces of glass, couplings, power cells, tubes and cylinders, the odd power converter. To add more confusion, each box seems to have different materials. Marcos' lacks the three couplings Lyris has but she lacks the two power cells Nimus has. After a moment the instructor clears her throat.

"The file inside will explain the basic needs of a lightsaber. The core mechanics and parts needed as well as ways to modify and improve them. Now you may have ALL parts or NO parts. And you won't be given any more. If someone else has a better or missing piece, take it. We do not share or let others become stronger while we become weak. Just don't kill anyone. Dismissed." She barks and as if everyone is an automated machine, they rise and leave in a matching fashion.

"And this is?" Marcos asks lazily as he raises another object.

"Power coupling." Nimus replies in a barely interested tone, far too focussed on the holopad in front of her.

He sighs and picks up a tiny cylinder with two indents for something to plugged in. The living quarters were empty bar the two of them. Lyris preferred spending her evening training off frustration. The tricky thing is that they can't waste any time building the weapon during the day with classes already on and it takes far longer than an hour to do anything so that rules out leisure time. That meant only sleeping hours are available for crafting it and almost everyone is in studying halls already. After a few moments she finally answers him.

"Different coupling." And then she turns back to her work.

He groans loudly.

"And _what is the difference?"_ He snaps at her, almost baring teeth but she doesn't look up.

"The first one aids in evening out the power but the second one's better for channelling the power to something."

"So one's the safe option and the other makes thing's dangerous." He groans before staring at the pieces on his bunk.

After the first week, Lyris had _graciously_ let him sleep under her where he originally wanted but for some reason he's grown to hate it. Something about sleeping under an extremely volatile person makes him anxious beyond belief. From the pieces he's worked out so far, he's got mostly power couplings, two stabilizers and one power cell, ion to be exact. But he lacks a reflector, a convertor and even a damn hilt. He pauses and then turns to the Twi'lek.

"I'll give you a coupling in exchange for your spare lens." He bargains and she raises a finger without looking up, hovering the requested item and tossing it at him.

"You're still missing a lot of major parts. You've forgotten about the modulators, the emitters and any buttons required to even operate it." His head lowers, "Face it. Neither of us can build one."

"What do you lack?"

"An emitter as well." She answers and he grunts before getting up. "Don't ask her. She won't share."

"Wasn't going to ask for that." He pauses and looks at Jez' bunk and Nimus rubs her eyes with a sigh.

"No. She'll actually kill you. She's not stable. Even with Lyris, you'll both be killed…or raped. Or both. I don't even know which order she'd do it…"

She halts and drifts off, dreading the human female who has a streak of purposefully breaking bones of her partners. Marcos ignores her and hides his parts before speed walking to the training rooms. Several of the older students are using their sabers against partners but not Lyris. He enters each one of them but still doesn't see here. With a hum, he heads down to the studying halls across the temple. They're extremely long, the walls lined with scrolls and books and files and several large collections of desks are arranged in the middle. Being a Togruta, she's easy to spot even at the back. Silently, he passes a few older students and even a master before sitting in front of her. He leans forwards and looks around before beginning to whisper.

"Look, I have an idea about je-"

"I need your spare stabiliser." She interrupts and he looks at her in confusion.

"How did you-"

"I was looking at your box in the meeting. It's the only part I need." She explains and he looks at her desk.

Sure enough, a modular, reflector, convertor, a hilt, emitter, lens and power cells are all there. The circuits and buttons are even present and arranged in what order of what needs to be connected to what. He slumps back, growing slightly irritated at how quickly she did it.

"So your box just-"

"No, El'va's box had." She explains, "He was unfortunate to be sitting on the _other_ side of me so I could see. I only broke his arm. He's fine. Give me the stabiliser and I'll give you my spares." She says in a blank tone, not seeing the point in keeping parts she doesn't need.

He grins at her, the irritation fading instantly before they silently stand. She collects her pieces and carefully orders them in her case before they walk up to the living quarters. His spine stiffens and he feels his stomach contort uneasily. Lyris feels the same but she presses on, opening the door. Nimus is pressed against the wall, her cheeks flushed as she struggles to breathe. Jez is several metres away with her back to the door, clutching her palm at her with a sadistic glint in her eyes as she watches her foe writhe and wiggle.

"I want tha…Well hello there." She smiles, showing off pearly teeth.

Marcos' lips tighten as he steps to her side, trying to get around her so he's to her left, Nimus' is to her right and Lyris is in front of her. The Togruta remains silent, preferring to watch this play out as she works out her next move.

"Well hello to you too." Marcos nods unevenly, "Just up for a casual strangle?"

She tatters, still not letting Nimus breathe. Her eyes are watering and Marcos feels his stomach tighten sharply. Images of him above her, seeing her bloodied face cut into his vision. He shakes it off and continues frowning.

"Well with Jolus in the medbay for a broken wrist…again, I needed a new toy. A toy I don't want to share."

"How territorial over a Twi'lek." Lyris rolls her eyes, seeming bored and unimpressed at the ordeal, "Cut the crap. What parts do you want? We're not imbeciles."

Jez freezes and glares at the alien, tightening her grip on Nimus who gasps and sobs in response. Marcos' eyes narrow and he takes a step forward, his arms by his sides and hands clenched tightly.

"You speak tough, alien scum. I've been waiting for another round since we first got here."

"Count." Marcos says in a low voice, making her eyes wander, "Two on one. You can't handle this. Now, release her and fuck off. Now." He growls, roughly thrusting a finger down to the ground.

She looks at him and then back to Lyris, pausing for a moment. A moment too long. Marcos snaps and swishes his hand upwards, knocking the tiles from under her to the side and making her fall. Before she hits the ground, he tosses her into the wall with the force while Lyris casually stands to the side with ease. Nimus to drop to her knees, violently coughing and gasping for air as she caresses her skin. Macros grabs Jez by the throat and roughly pushes her into the wall where he holds her, the twitch of his mouth unsettling her. He squeezes harder, noticing how good it feels to have such a soft neck bend and mould under your fingers. It's almost relaxing, feeling the air being pressed beneath your palm and forced out her mouth. The vibrations are pleasant, relaxing his worn and aching fingers that haven't experienced pleasure in months.

"Enough."

He turns to see Lyris with her arms crossed, giving him a blank stare. He turns back and presses his hand on Jez harder, watching as her cheeks turn violet while she tries to kick his legs and stomach desperately.

"Marcos." She says, "We can't kill her. We were ordered against it. If you do, we'll all suffer."

He stares at her eyes as they widen desperately and he sighs, releasing her as she immediately shudders and clings to the air around her. He steps back but kneels in front of her, placing a finger under her chin. She looks at him, his eyes showing a flicker of yellow once more. Her eyes try to turn cold and strong but the pain in her body makes it difficult. She stifles a cough while he continues to just gaze at her.

"Try that again…you'll die." He murmurs.

He stands up and wobbles back on numb legs, the heat flowing and hurting him, making him desperate to ease it. The feeling of her suffering made it passable. Maybe he should try again to find more piece. But before he can think of trying it again, Lyris grabs Jez by her collar and roughly tosses her out of the room, glaring at her before turning to Marcos. They exchange a challenging gaze before Marcos backs down, breaking eye contact and turning his head to the floor.

No one says anything as they don't really know what to say. Lyris places her box on Marcos' bunk and begins arranging the pieces on the perfectly even sheet. Nimus slowly gets up on shaking legs before sitting on the bunk too, facing away from her. Marcos glares at the ground bitterly, feeling the heat cool and be replaced by emptiness and shame. It makes him close his eyes and sigh, rubbing his lids tiredly. Nimus slowly turns her neck to stare at the arrangement of parts in front of Lyris and chews her bottom lips. Lyris looks up and raises a hairless brow in slight annoyance.

"Yes?" She grunts.

Instead of replying verbally, she turns and crosses her feet on the bunk. She reaches over and starts reordering the parts, much the hatred of the Togruta.

"You were putting too much power into the emitter. The lens and stabiliser would've exploded in your hands the first time you activated it." She explains, shifting a few more circuits and buttons and removing a power cell, "It's more stable now."

Lyris frowns but nods softly, reviewing her holopad and after a few moments sighing. The Twi'lek _may_ have saved her hands. She also _may_ have weakened her weapon. She opens her box again and places a pile of spare parts next Nimus who looks at her. Being greeted with a blank stare, she takes the two parts she needs and swiftly begins arranging the structure of her weapon. After a brief moment she removes her hands, revealing a slightly similar design but one more based on structure and stability as opposed to strength. Lyris inspects hers and remains silent, although can still appreciate the level of skill in the craft. The Twi'lek turns to Marcos and clears her throat.

"Come." She says simply, patting the edge of the bunk.

"Not interested." He whispers, not really paying attention to what she's saying.

A slight tug at his shoulder and he turns, slightly confused when he sees they're both seated. Nimus lessens her hand on the force and Marcos lowers his gaze, still feeling extremely uneasy. On uneven feet, he walks over and joins them. He reaches down and silently collects and places his materials in front of them. He slowly arranges them in the way he thinks is the correct order only to be stumped, even with the spares from the others. Nimus silently places her soft hands on his and gently pulls them into his lap before slowly rearranging and adding the needed parts. The result is very similar to what he had wanted but can actually work this time.

"Thank you." He says softly.

Lyris is the first to act afterwards. She reaches into her robes and pulls out her crystal, placing it in the centre of the contraption. Closing her eyes, she crosses her legs and relaxes. The hilt spins and clips before separating down the middle. The circuits and parts hover as well; Lyris' face stern as she concentrates desperately to link and assemble the device in the air. Once the two main areas are complete, she levitates them beside the crystal where the hilts slide over and turn, clicking together and finishing her project. With a less than graceful grunt, she lets go and has to grab it before it drops and tumbles to the floor. It's a simple design, mostly silver with an black slash down the back and several lines at the bottom. Nimus is slightly quicker with her confidence in her design allowing her not to be as concerned as the previous crafter. Within a minute, the slightly smaller saber is finished. With a bronze square as the activation device and a hook at the top, hers has a more skeletal appearance. They both look at Marcos who sighs and closes his own eyes. Out of the three of them, he is the quickest to finish but also the least caring in how his put the parts together. His is the longest but also the thinnest with a hook like Nimus' but also spiral pattern at the bottom due to the power cells, a feature he allows himself to grin at.

Lyris rises from her seat and raises her arm. The hiss of her saber activating is followed by her face being coated in a red afterglow. The weapon is heavier then imagined, enough to make even her take notice. She inspects the stunning ruby blade before swiping it downwards. The equal weight isn't what she was expecting and the lack of resistance makes her stumble several steps, allowing Nimus to smirk. She gets up with Macros and they activate theirs together, each having their own surprise at the weight. Marcos' swing is worse than Lyris but he manages to stabilize his legs instantly while Nimus trips and falls. Lyris chuckles softly and rolls her shoulders back, deactivating her weapon.

"At least we can defend ourselves against the inbred." She scoffs but Marcos offers his trademark frown.

"Yeah…and so can _she._ "

"I can handle her." She counters.

"You couldn't the first night."

"You just won't let that go." She snaps at him and he merely shrugs.

"Something about imagining you with a murderer over your bunk just doesn't seem nice." He turns to Nimus, "Maybe it's because there'd be a distinction lack horns to see miles away."

Lyris stares at him, feeling uncomfortable for the second time in months. On one hand, he just mocked her horns. One another, he just implied they were _big._ She remains silent but Nimus notices her discomfort and adds to it.

"They are getting bigger, aren't they?" Lyris' eyes snap to the smaller girl, "All thick and strong and…um…thicker."

"Do you ever ram into other members of your species with them?" Marcos randomly asks and she looks at him with utter confusion, "I'm merely curious."

"On occasion, yes." She straightens herself and refuses to look uncomfortable, "Tribal leaders fight potential rivals and one method of fighting is to strike with the horns. Another occasion is to…select someone." Nimus opens her mouth in confusion but she's given a warning look, "A mate. That is all. Enough. Why don't you ask about her long head tails as well? Or ask about his frizzy substance on his head and face."

He pauses, caressing his jaw without thinking about it.

"You…You don't have _any_ hair? Like anywhere?" They offer him silence, "Even…"

His cheeks ripen as he makes a hand gesture to his southern areas and they both look at him in confusion before Nimus looks at his head and then his lap and finally his head again.

"You have hair…on you-"

"AROUND." He swiftly corrects with a huff and Lyris smirks, happy not to be the topic of teasing, "It's…above and a bit around. Has to do with evolution so shush. We're not getting into it, miss Lekku that reaches her rear."

The words actually make Nimus buff out her chest in pride and Lyris' Lekku senses Nimus' wiggle in a slight moment of joy. Marcos rolls his eyes.

"The need for size really does transcend species…Creator…"

The Defiant

The smell of smoke and burning metal is enough to over the life support systems within seconds. The endless screaming and shouting, people attempting to maintain order as panic spreads like a virus. The fear and dread stilling even bone in sight. The scene is nothing short of euphoric.

The dark armoured figure silently prowls though the hall, sparks flying from circuits in the walls as the lights around him flicker. Soon enough, the main lights shut down and emergency power activating, only adding to delicious smell of terror in the air. It's always easier to sense when someone's terrified. The air is just a tad…thicker than usual.

The individual steps over a Republic trooper, a severe burn to his face the cause of his death no doubt. The status of the corvette left much to be desired. Being bombarded with dozens of torpedos within two minutes can achieve that quite easily. Still, many of the crew survived the initial attack. The initial boarding? Not so much. Security guards and garrison soldiers are cannon fodder for the gods who organise them, a fact that the war has made very clear. That being said, even ants can pack a venomous sting that can hurt immensely. A man who enters a fight arrogant and lacking the correct knowledge of his foes is bound to lose, even if he is a Sith.

The individual passes across the medbay, the medics crushed by a wall caved in over them. The blank stare of young human young is abruptly ignored as her corpse is abandoned. Several moments later he hears more shouting and he calmly slides forward, his hand never leaving his hip. Just as he turns to the right he sees the blast doors at the far end of the causeway shut tightly, leaving him with five young individuals in his path. The nearest one, a human no older than sixteen, turns and straightens himself, drawing an emerald lightsaber that he rolls in his hand. The individual marches on, paying little care as the other four padawans do the same. The leader steps forward, a look of pure conviction coating his stern features.

"I am Nirvis Colous and I do not fe-"

The individual swiftly yanks him forward with the force and skewers him without effort. The student cough and winces several times and one of his friends shouts angrily as he rushes forward. He throws the student in the air and knocks the second Jedi's saber to side, using his own second weapon to impale him. Just as the first body drops from the air he slashes through it, horrifically cutting the already dead boy in half as a girl in the back screams and cups her mouth. A pressure forms in the back of his mind and he effortlessly steps to the side, making the sneak attack from behind fail as the person falls in front of him. He presses his foot on his chest and emotionlessly removes his head before throwing his two weapons and impaling the two girls. The remaining Jedi crawls into a corner, his eyes wide as he sobs.

"I-I surrender. Please. I-I b-being! Ple-"

I swift slash across his face silence him and the individual turns to the blast doors. He extends his palms, watching as the thick metal creaks and bends to his will. Soon, the wall rips out from its hinges and he moves to the side, gazing as the chunk hurls into the causeway behind him.

The command centre is ruined. Half the consoles are fried and the circuits burned to the point of no repair. The sirens and red lights are even beginning to waver. The star made to the left has lost its glow while the entirety of the chairs are empty. All that remains is a captain and the dozen troops between them. The captain, an old, rather rotund man, sneers at the individual with his right arm raised.

"They were just students. Not even adults. And you killed them!" He shouts and the men fire as he lowers his raise arm.

The rifles are automatic and the time it takes each finger to press the trigger for a single round can be exploited. The individual slashes his saber down to deflect the first wave before using his left hand to make a man fly between them, absorbing the blast. He screams in agony but his arm snaps in front of him and he unwillingly fires at his comrades. They either dive to the side or drop to the ground. He throws the man at a group and them tumble to the ground, only to have their heads removed as they try to get up. Without even looking at the four remaining men, he raises their arms so their pistols are to their cheeks. The sound of fire is swiftly followed by four thuds. The captain is silent and emotionless, never having seen such brutality or ease in his fifty years of duty. In individual levitates two chairs and places them between them, sitting in one rather formally and waiting for the man to do the same. The captain spits at his feet.

"You expect me to talk pleasantly? After crippling my ship? Slaughtering all my men. Killing children…"

The individual remains silent, merely waiting for him to do as expected. Seeing no choice, the man clears his dry throat and sits down in front him. The individual places his hands on his hood and lowers, revealing a skull shaped mask and the emblem of the Imperial Inquisitors on his shoulder. He leans forward.

"Four days ago you left the edge of the Sith space. You liberated a prison vessel but took one prisoner here. We both know who this prison was. Why we both can agree it's safer for them to be executed." His highly altered voice states.

The captain scoffs.

"A true sociopath who only thinks in calculations."

"This is not a simple matter. They are a threat to both Sith and Jedi. The Republic and Jedi had the opportunity to defend and retrieve this person several months ago. They didn't. Why? They knew the risks this person has. Why it is safer for all sides of the conflict for them to be put at rest."

"They're not a dune gort. You can't just decide to put them down."

"Debatable. This ship clearly lacks a prison cell, let alone one that could hold them. Where did you keep it?"

Silence is rewarded by his palm rising. His screams could echo through space as sweat leaks from his pours while he tosses and turns, gnashing his teeth violently. After a moment, the Sith yields and watches him pant desperately.

"This ship was a decoy. Where's the actual ship? Where's the third ship?"

"You tell me." The captain laughs before screaming as his bones crack.

After several more minutes he's released and panting, his body slack against his chair. His closes his eyes only to see images, violent flashes of things he'd recently seen.

"No…." He whimpers, trying to think of something else.

The Sith never stops digging, reaching in harder to the sensitive areas of his mind before grinning softly to himself. _The Ma'laki_.

"Thank you, captain." He says as he stands.

He instantly hurls his saber and kills the whimpering man before retracing his weapon.

"Please. Don't get up." He says softly before turning and heading towards the exit of the broken down ship.


	4. The Masters

A/N: I'm back. Feel free to R/R but again, no pressure. As usual, any advice or suggestions feel free. Hope you're having a great week

I also lack an editor so please forgive the odd typo.

Have fun

No.4: The Masters

Small drops of sweat add an extra sheen to the human's face as he pants and grimaces while the instructor walks away. Any sign of pain or discomfort is a sign of weakness and thus must be removed and punished. Many of the students had learnt that in a very practical way as their bodies were burnt or beaten for wincing or showing the physical trials of the exercises. The current one is arguably one of the worst ones yet. At least for Marcos.

Balancing on one foot on a spinning plank of rotating steel, his other leg is perfectly crossed in front of him as his foot touches his hip. His hands are extended to his sides, a dozen heavy, human sized rocks hovering around him. Tiny amounts of dust and sand are chiselled off as he stares in front of him, looking at the dozen different patterns he has to perfectly etch into all of them. This isn't the first time this session has been done. The first time was merely one rock. And then six. And now this. Needless to say, it's one of the worst methods of snapping your limits.

His entire body is busy seizing up and locking together, meaning that moving his arms now is going to be an issue. His fingers are twisted to an unhealthy angle as he tries to finish the patterns, his sense of locomotion making his vision blurry and clouded. _So…close…_

Out of the dozen students at the start of the class, about half remain. The first one to drop off was the short human, who was exposed to an extreme amount of lightning. The smell of his burning flesh has only just left the room. The lack of windows makes it hard to filter or air out smells, even with the artificial air systems in the rooms. The oxygen even feels different to the lungs. It's far less rewarding and at times feels utterly uncomfortable to breathe in. It adds a level of odd pressure to the lungs and makes it hard to exhale.

Marcos, Jez, Lyris, the Zabrak, another human and even Nimus have managed to handle the extreme pressure so far. The others are barely handling the pressure as well with Nimus lurching forward, exhibiting a dull and blank face as she tries to push away the pain from her consciousness. The desire for numbness to fulfil her rather than continue to stressful experience is almost more desirable than actually finishing. The situation isn't much better for Lyris. While her muscles can handle strains a lot more than most, the still unfamiliar practice of relying purely on the force weighs down on her heavily. The stones are shaking violently and the carving is taking a considerably long time compared to the others. After a moment, the sound of slow, almost sarcastic clapping is heard but no one dares allow themselves the distraction.

"You have achieved what was required. Leave and allow those lesser than you attempt to do the same." The instructor murmurs to Jez.

She lowers her head in respect but the smirk is very noticeable. She turns to stare at Lyris' back and raises a brow, turning to the instructor as he walks towards the Zabrak who is also very close to completion. She heads to leave but as she exits she whips her hand to the side. The plank Lyris is rotating on suddenly shifts violently to the side. Her gasp fills the ears of the others as she falls to her side, the nearly finished boulders crashing to the ground. The instructor turns on his heel and frowns before tattering, somehow already at her side.

"So close. So close." He mocks, standing over the panting Togruta.

"The plan-"

The force wraps around his fingers softly before he reaches forward, striking the nearest arm in a loud backhand. The limb snaps to the side unnaturally and cracks sickeningly. Her mouth gapes open in a silent scream as her eyes bludge, threatening to water. The instructor looks at her and spits on her leg, looking disgusted.

"Remove your pathetic self. This room is for those who have actual potential." He seethes.

She cups her arm and silently gets up, her chocolate eyes threatening to pop out as her lip twitches. After a few seconds her large frame disappears towards the medbay, returning the room into complete silence. Nimus winces, biting her lip tightly before adding some final details. The urge to get out of here is worse than ever as she was unfortunate to be spinning slowly enough to watch the entire scene. The sight of Jez's smirk causing her stomach to tighten with desire to snap the rocks. Several of them groan with the newfound pressure and she quickly eases off, refocussing on sawing off the final lines of the rocks. Marcos is feeling a similar sensation, reliving the moments of feeling Jez's neck quiver under his hand and a level of pleasure slivers down his spine. He looks at the spinning rocks around him and watches as he finishes the final detail, succeeding the same time as the Zabrak. The instructor looks at the both of them and offers a sickening grin full of mirth. It's enough to unsettle the Zabrak to an extent. They both climb off their planks and silently walk towards him.

"You have both done the minimum requirement of the task. Now exit silently." He orders and they both bow.

He looks at Nimus out of the corner of his eye and sees she's almost down with the task as well. A level of relief flushes over him and he exits the hall, having a small while for a break before the next lesson. The Zabrak groans but stops when he sees Marcos staring at him. He straightens himself and buffs out his chest. The broken horns on his crown are slowly regrowing but apparently it will take a while to fully heal.

The two pass in silence, Marcos heading to the medbay and Lim heading to the living quarters to rest before the next lesson. The temple is even more crowded now that yet another group had been shipped in. The last few months had seen the desire to streamline the teaching overcome concerns. The older students were now non-existent and for the first time in over a year, Macros was one of the older students. The others were shipped off with masters and those that weren't were shipped off to off world missions for a more practical touch in learning. The war had thankfully been pushed into a stalemate with the core worlds being further from the Sith than they ever had been. The new development had let to a change in military policy. A newfound desire for new technology and weapons had managed to shift the focus away conventual methods of warfare. This meant the Sith were given a new role as overseers of these new masterpieces.

Marcos swiftly passes through the stairwell and enters the mostly empty medbay. A tiny, hovering droid with several arms and sockets for appliances scoots over and scans him with a blue light.

"Severe strain to muscles. High levels of adrenaline. Heartrate higher than desired. What is your medical query?" A low, rustic voice asks.

"Nothing to be concerned over." He replies curtly and moves past it.

The droid scans him once more before hovering over a panel and locking onto it, shutting down instantly. The two medics pay little attention to him. The burned or injured students are far more interesting for them, even if the blows are relatively pathetic compared to the other issues faced in the war. He heads towards the left and see Lyris being fitted with a metal cast as the medic places the used syringes on the bench next to them. Her eyes are blank, staring out vacantly into the endless abyss as her bones are reset. Marcos leans to the side of the thin portable wall, not making his presence known until they move. He steps in front of her bunk but she doesn't look at him. He sighs, crossing his arms and looks at the side.

"Are you ok?"

She doesn't respond. Her eyes are glued to whatever's in front of her. He moves his head but it's nothing, just the wall opposite them. He turns to look her in the eye.

"Lyris." He says in a deeper voice.

She finally looks up and narrows her eyes. It's a common expression that's lost its impact over the past year. He doesn't even straighten him, allowing the fact he's completely unfazed sink into her mind.

"Are you ok?" He repeats evenly.

"Of course. Merely a single snap. I've had far worse, even as a child." She admits and he bites back the temptation to inquire more into the topic.

He sighs and sits on the bunk in front of her as she continues to glare deeply at the human. The urge to strike him is circling on her mind and images of him bleeding almost threatens to make her smile. He lowers his gaze.

"What happened?" He asks and she grunts.

"What does it matter? I failed and was punished appropriately. Nothing more." She sneers and Marcos feels some frustration forming that's hard to shut away.

The sound of the walls shifting makes them both look up as Nimus enters, her gaze swiftly avoiding the intense stare of the Togruta.

"It was Jez." She murmurs and Lyris huffs.

"We cannot blame ever-"

"I saw her. As she was leaving she used the force to knock the plank to the side when the instructor wasn't looking. She's still upset with us over the incident a while back." She explains and Marcos nods in thought.

Lyris reluctantly stills her next retort. The Twi'lek may annoy her beyond belief at the best of times but she doesn't have a habit of lying. In fact, being a schemer isn't in her nature at all. That, or she's been manipulating her image so perfectly that should could easily off them at any given moment. She eyes Nimus warily from afar. Marcos stands up and clears his throat.

"We can't do anything." He turns to Lyris, "If we accidently killed her…"

"I don't care. It was just training. I'll handle it better myself." She sighs and relaxes against the bunk, the numbing solution making the rubbing bones ease softly.

Nimus' eyes narrow but says nothing as Marcos gets up, nodding upwards and heading out of the quartered off section.

"Heal well." He says and Nimus offers a tiny smile which Lyris replies with a grunt.

They exit the medbay and Nimus immediately is pressed into a wall, Marcos staring at their side to make sure no one is around. She flushes at the close contact. Their chests are practically touching at this point and her warm breath can be felt on his ear. After a brief moment of paranoia he turns to her with a stoic expression.

"Jez needs to be dealt with. _Now."_ He says stiffly and the Twi'lek freezes.

"You said…If she dies…" She stutters and he rolls his eyes impatiently.

"We're not _killing_ her. Just…finally managing to put an end to this grudge match between her and Lyris."

"Lyris won't like seeming defenceless." She counters and he shakes his head so she presses again, "She's Togruta. They're different from us. If she is seen like she needs others help, she'll hate us. Even more than usual." She insists and he grunts, stepping back in annoyance.

"She's not going to do anything. She's too damn stubborn."

"Well what now then? We can't do anything ourselves and she won't do anything. We're stuck." She huffs and he crosses his arms.

"Fuck." He mutters.

Several dark cloaked masters pass through them to enter the medbay, no one them paying any attention to the pair but Nimus eyes them carefully. After a moment she reaches out and grabs his shoulder.

"We frame her and don't tell Lyris it's us."

"WHAT?!" He almost shouts and she shushes him.

"We…do something that'll get her exiled or something and say it was her. We need to plant evidence, shield our min-"

"Oh yes. Shield our minds from masters. That's not exactly as simple as a game of pazaak! We can handle that type of mental probing!"

"Then have a droid do it. I'll program it. We just need to think of a-"

"Easy." He cuts in, "Steal something from a master. But leave something in the program or droid itself that points only to her. A signature technique or something."

"She's horrible at mechanics."

"Then make it sloppy made. Really poorly constructed. Then have it try to steal something from Scutus' quarters on the fifth floor."

She nods, thinking over the finer details for a moment. Several guards walk towards the medbay and remain station there. Guards are common but not around this floor. The base floor and higher levels yes, but never the less important ones. They begin to quickly walk away, feeling uneasy around the large men and their blasters before noticing Lim stepping through the stairs, clearly finished from his quick rest.

"Lim." Marcos softly calls and the Zabrak turns. "What's with the guards?"

He pauses but notices the medbay and nods, understanding.

"Several masters are here. High ranking ones but apparently one is extremely temperamental. Something happened between him and the grandmaster on Tatooine before the grandmaster arrived. They're to make sure no students are killed in a moment of rage, or so they say." He explains, the deep hush of his accent clinging to his 'g' and 'k' sounds.

"Why are the masters even here?" Nimus asks and he shrugs.

"I wasn't told. I only got info from a service droid who was here last time the master visited. There's some around our quarters, too."

 _A service droid..._ Nimus ponders while Marcos huffs. They both try to react normally. _That just made the plan a living hell to pull off if there's freaking guards in the next room!_ Marcos coughs and smiles softly, attempting to be as comfortable as usual. Then again, being comfortable in a place like this is bordering on madness.

"I'll see you two in the sparring rings soon." He says and Marcos nods in goodbye as the Zabrak moves past them.

"I'll make it in the desert at night and put the device in her boot. I'll program it to jump off at a certain time and then fly to quarters." Nimus says immediately.

"You'll get heat spots again and it'll be too noticeable. Besides, she's not smart enough to design a machine like that." He sighs and she nods knowingly.

"We'll have to wait then." She admits.

"Agreed." He murmurs before turning a few moments later, "Let's head to the rings then."

They begin walking but Nimus leans into him.

"We need a service droid."

Verrik gently places himself on the leather seat, looking at the empty round table calmly. _Only a few more minutes._ He taps his fingers softly on the glass while awaiting his _guests_. He almost sneers at the word but desperation is something he has reluctantly let play his hand. After all, not many masters were left that were willing to accept students and not try to kill them for some ritual or something. And sadly, one of those masters was Avon, his former second in command. The idiot himself who swindled the guilt off towards Verrik for the failure all those damn cycles ago. He bites his lip. He should've killed him that day. But no, the Dark Council likes him. He's far too good of a killer to be put to waste. If only he mind _hadn't_ gone to waste. The man can barely see his own reflection without laughing anymore. Man's an utter madman now. Countless shocks to the brain clearly takes a toll it seems.

He raises the empty glass in front of him and his assistant pours him more brandy before stepping back into the shadows along with the guards. Once upon a time, before Avon, you wouldn't need guards at your own damn meeting. Now, the top level of the temple is a fortress along with the student quarters. Last time he was here he decided he needed to test the students. And on that day, the student count went to two thirds in ten minutes. And some would _dare_ say the Sith are an unreliable concept. After several moments another assistant enters the room, her head lowered.

"The guests have arrived." She says and he nods.

She exits just as four figures enter. Originally, there were six to arrive but one managed to swivel out of it and another was recently killed on the Dantooine front. This isn't the complete number of masters teaching, however. Hundreds of them are spread out amongst the galaxy and a few dozen here and there are travelling to the three other temples. The ones that specialise in Inquisitors and other specific branches of the Sith order. While the vast majority of the Sith gained knowledge from these very walls, many others gain very deadly skills elsewhere. _If I could only be grandmaster there instead of here._ He inspects the masters closely. Two women, two males. All human. _At least that much is acceptable._

A tall, lanky figure with long dark hair and a bright smile immediately speeds towards Verrik, arms wide open. Verrik steps back with his hand to his belt with a glare on his face. The man pauses, frowning and forming a pout as he lowers his arms.

"Verrrrrrik. What's wrong?" He asks, laughing softly at the stiffness of his old master.

"Nothing that concerns you, Avon. Be seated." He spits but the gangly master laughs.

He claps as he bends forward, barely able to halt the laughter before leaning on the table. The other masters, used to the idiotic display, ignore him as they spread out and sit on the chairs. They remain silent but each count the guards, note their weapons and any possible traps and escape routes. One must always be prepared. Avon tatters before slumping on the seat, swinging slowly while Verrik just stares at him with utter contempt.

"Let's be blunt so we don't waste time and be here with each other longer than necessary." He says, still staring at Avon.

"Does our presence irritate you that much?" Sala, a shorter human with glossy black hair, asks with a raised and trimmed brow.

"Yes." He says almost instantly as he holds up a holopad while his assistant tapes a small remote. "Twelve students are still alive, each having passed the first trial smoothly. They've all survived training thus far and have forged their first lightsaber."

"There's four of us." The man opposite Sala states in a smooth voice.

Elso is a tall man as well but by no means gangly and borderline underfed like Avon appears. With short black hair and a matching line of hair on his chin, he's only in his mid-thirties like the rest of the group. The younger masters are usually fighting on the front lines and the older ones either already have students or are dead. Verrik nods, trying to understand a question before closing his eyes.

"Originally there were six. Two students each."

"Three is hardly possible." Sala scoffs, placing her boots on the table, "Was finding two more masters impossible?"

"We are at war. Those that excel are training students from the other sites. It doesn't help that every master that's asked refuses. If you have any other names, offer me them now!" He snarls, "I don't want this. I want one master per student but sadly, we don't have that many masters who are interested."

"The appeal of violence is too strong. It's how we gain power over those librarians from Dantooine." The second woman, Cheena, adds.

"And the smell of burnt Jedi flesh." Avon further states, giving his lip a long, slow lick with a hum.

"Hence my issue." Verrik says but Sala cuts him off.

"We agreed two."

"A third would disrupt missions, making focussing hard and controlling them impossible. The rodents would triple us." Cheena nods with Sala.

"Aww." Verrik pouts, "Do the younglings scare you? Upset one will murder you in your sleep?" He laughs before leaning forward, "I don't care. You're taking three."

He begins to look around, noticing something's missing. He turns to his assistant and clicks a finger.

"Where's the service droid? I need the datapads." He spits and she looks down, pressing several buttons on a small remote only to get no response once more.

He turns to her and she steps back in mild fear as he steps towards here, snapping the object from her hand and inspecting it. Sala grunts before getting up and walking towards the bottles of wine and brandy and other liquids in the centre of the room.

"If you can-"

"Perhaps a quick recess is required." Verrik grunts as he calls over a guard.

The other three masters rise and head towards the drinks. Collecting a glass of wine, Elso tilts his head to the door and hums, feeling something odd. Something uneven close by. He turns to a disgruntled Verrik and clutches his stomach.

"I believe the travel has worn me. I will exc-"

"We don't care." Sala snaps before finishing her glass in one swing and pouring another.

Avon grins to himself, smiling up at the ceiling as his head lolls to the side. Elso swiftly steps back, knowing not to question the often uncontrollable lord. He nods to the guards and exits the room, heading towards the restrooms only to instantly turn towards the stairs once he's clear of the guards. Following his mind, he makes a left and quickly hides behind a pillar, hand still clutching his red wine.

A human boy is holding a skinny and rusted service droid against a wall while a green Twi'lek is kneeling and playing with the circuit board in its chest. The human mutters something to her and she squeeks something back before closing the panel and stepping back. She picks up a tiny tool kit and hides it in her cloak and Elso leans back, drinking silently as he watches closely. The machine beeps and its eyes flash to a normal yellow before quickly ignoring the two individuals. It bends over to a complete ninety degree angle and collects the four datapads on the ground before treading towards him. He quickly steps back and hides in the shadows as the droid passes and soon after the duo.

"The droid should try to take a holocron from his library now." The girl whispers.

"And you're certain it's Scutus?" The boy asks as they pass.

Interest perked, Elso watches them descend into the lower regions, no doubt the quarters he had once resided in. He turns back and swiftly heads to the meeting room again. The others are in a heated argument now, with Avon still smiling in his own world. Verrik is backed into a corner with the women screeching. Sala even has a hand on her dual saber with a flushed face. Elso sighs and offers them a condescending look.

"Must we act like children?" He tatters but stops when he sees the droid from earlier next to the assistant.

Not knowing any better, the assistant passes each master a holopad and then returns next to it while Verrik attempts to bark back. _Always the petty one in the room._ Elso looks at the files and rises a brow at the students. Two Twi'lek, a Togruta, two Zabrak and the rest are human. Looking at the images of the green Twi'lek and then the boy, he moves next to the droid and leans against the wall.

"Only one year! It's not enough for a master! The Dark Council has-"

"Treason warning." Verrik sneers at Sala, "And I have approval from the Emperor himself."

It's a lie and they all know it. No one has directly heard from the Emperor since the start of the war, perhaps even beforehand. The true leadership of the Empire is the Dark Council, the Military Board and to a lesser extent, the Civil Division. Everything else was just a social hierarchy structured like a clock with different ranks being the different sized cogs.

The air begins to get hot and Elso looks up from his datapad to see the assistant frowning as well. He wipes away a thin line of sweat and sees the eyes of the droid flicker. He reaches out and instantly whips it back, silently hissing at the boiling metal surface. A pressure forms in the back of his head and he swiftly forms a barrier just as the room erupts in white and red. The barrier protects him from the blast and the force and once it clears he sees the base of the droid is still there. The blast was a relatively little one but still powerful enough to knock a hole in the wall. The burnt face of the motionless assistant is also an indicator of the blast's power. Verrik coughs, hissing at the burn on his shoulder as more guards flood into the room.

"You!" He snaps at Elso, "What have you done?"

"I was next to it. I'm not suicidal nor poor at machinery." He mocks before allowing the rushing medics to inspect the room.

The others are just covered in some dust but otherwise perfectly unharmed. Cheena seems a bit annoyed her wine is ruined though. Verrik grunts and pushes away the medic as he counts to round on Elso while Sala gets up and walks to the droid.

"You were closest. You must've done something! A bomb!" He shouts and Elso casually inspects his saber.

"Want to make a clearer accusation?" He asks with a smile and Verrik sneers, drawing his own weapon.

"It was tampered with."

They both turn to Sala as she reveals the opened chest cavity of the droid. Elso pauses and remains silent, letting the scene play out as he steps back. Verrik turns to her and then orders the assistant who was outside.

"Get an engineer. Find out who made that machine do what." He orders and she calmly exits while Cheena gets up and dusts off her robes.

"I believe that we should continue this _after_ we find out who tried to murder us." She advises and Elso offers Verrik a grin.

"Maybe it was the Emperor." He laughs before heading towards the guest rooms with the two females behind him.

Verrik turns to Avon, still in the void of his mind and rolls his eyes.

"No one enters this room until the engineers do their work." He hisses to a guard.

"It was a student."

Avon's grin almost touches his ears as he swivels around. Verrik's face just turns blank before resuming his walk to the exit.

"Who else could sneak into the temple, master? Unless there's ghosts."

"You're not mad. You're a child." His former master grunts dismissively but Avon rises instantly.

"I've seen them before. On that site! With Marka R-"

"YOU DO NOT SEE DEAD SITH!" The shout echoes down the staircase. "You never have. You just couldn't handle a defeat on Tatooine so you claimed to be a seer to escape punishment. You're a damn coward." He spits at Avon who offers a sight of his toothy smile.

"He's not happy with us. None of us."

"I don't have time for this." Verrik mutters before closing the door

"All OF US!"

The dramatic increase of guards makes everyone silently uncomfortable. The complete lack of answers had also makes it worse. Classes were cancelled and all rooms were shut down with everyone signed to their quarters until further notice. Something had clearly fucked up.

Marcos enters the room and spots Nimus playing nervously with her Lekku on her bunk while the others either sleep or softly talk. He walks up next to her and sits, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

"What…exactly…did you do to the circuits?" He whispers and she tries to look passive in case someone sees a guilty face.

"I just put some…alterations to its processors. I did nothing else." She almost pleads and he nods.

She's too clever to screw up something as basic as a mere chore droid. That being said, something's happened for the entire temple to be put in lockdown. After a few moments he looks at her again.

"Just control your emotions and we will be fine. I swear." He says softly and she nods, a shadow of a smile forming.

"And what are you two whispering about?"

He sighs and stands, seeing Jez seething at them. Everyone is silent, watching them. Whenever Jez does anything, there's always be a show of it. It's why no one stops her, she's the only entertainment around here.

"Oh just what order we can share you in." He shrugs, "Nimus wants you from behind. Not a fan of the face." Jez's features darken as she pulls out her lightsaber, "Thing is though, I don't either. But I also don't like being boring with the same position. Tell me, you seem like you know HEAPS of positions. No doubt from your dad and uncles when they're drunk and can't find your battered mother anywhere. Any tips?"

She activates it and slashes at his throat. He leaps back and shoves at her but she reaches out as well, pushing against his attack.

"You think I don't know how much you rely on the force?" She laughs as she spins her saber casually, "Fight me with a weapon, coward."

"No."

They all turn to see a sullen looking Scutus enter, his face red but in a blotchy and swollen way. His legs are also moving in a limp and he seems to be struggling to breathe. He hobbles into the middle and stares at Marcos and Jez, irritated but simply too tired for this right now. His body has more pressing concern right now, like heading to the medbay.

"Everyone is to head to the auditorium now. And don't be late. Take it from me, the grandmaster is not in a good mood." He pants before nodding at the guards and leaving.

The room becomes thick and even Jez backs off, putting her weapon on her belt and ending with a glare at Marcos before leaving. He looks at a nervous Nimus and shakes his head subtly before heading out as well. The entire temple is silent but dozens of students of all ages are entering the large room. Everyone is forming a line against either the left or right wall and kneeling in front of who is assumed to be the grandmaster and four other individuals. The charred remains of the droid is at their feet. He feels a spike in emotions and offers the Twi'lek a warning look beforehand that doesn't seem to help her that much. Everyone is here it seems. A few hundred students of all ages except those in the medbay it seems. Lyris is nowhere to be seen. They sit down near the entrance and remain silent as the last students and instructors enter. Even the teachers seem nervous. The grandmaster steps forward.

"This evening there was an incident during a very important meeting." He says loudly, glaring at the students in front of him while the others beside him remain neutral. "This droid," He kicks it softly, "was played with and killed one of my men and almost two masters including me. Step forward and your punishment won't be painful. It will be quick. But LIE and you will wish for death ever second of your life." He says lowly.

Silence. Everyone is staring at the ground the dread being sensed by the older students is uncomfortable. They squirm at the intense emotions but the masters seem to feed on it. Nimus clutches her robes tightly as she tries not to have a panic attack. Marcos softly nudges her knee with his. _She's going to blow this._

"No one?" He asks mockingly before lifting the droid with his mind and hurling it at a wall.

A few younger students shudder and then his eyes darken with a tint of yellow. He draws his saber and walks very close to them. He stares at them, using the force to make them look into his molten orbs before slowly moving across to another batch. The others seem bored and unimpressed. Well, except for one of the males. He seems very interested in the area towards the door, his eyes refusing to leave it. His gaze makes Marcos uncomfortable and he looks down again. The other male master seems to loving the tension, almost _giggling_ at it.

Soon, the grandmaster makes his way down to the edges of the hall and pauses when he sees a trembling Twi'lek. Marcos closes his eyes in resignation. Either torture or death, that's what awaits them. The grandmaster leers down at her and she stiffens.

"You reprogrammed it to kill me," He accuses and she shakes her head wildly, "Don't lie."

"Nimus Oto'von. A native of Ryloth. Found a Hutt slave ship." The tall master reads from a holopad, "Pfft. Her skills at engineering seem far too advanced for something as little as moving the processors but forgetting to move the filters _as well_." He says easily.

Nimus bites her lip. _Such a little damn mistake. That's why the processors blew. Damn it._ The grandmaster rips the pad from him and inspects it himself before looking at her.

"But you know who did it, correct?" He asks gruffly and she nods and whispers, "Louder!" He commands.

"J-Jez." She says and lowers her head even more.

The blonde human jumps to her feet but the grandmaster raises his arm. Her body stiffens like a rock and she gasps as he pulls her closer. He eyes her over and almost spits at her face. Her eyes stare at Nimus with enough fury that she could melt a sun. He feels it and almost smirks at the pure hatred pouring off her delicate skin.

"Ah, the hatred of betrayal is a strong one. Did you ask the alien to help you because you can't even realise what a filter is?" He mocks and she tries to reply under the pressure, "Did you want to move up in the world so quickly that you needed us dead?"

"There are smarter ways of assassination." Sala adds but seems amused by the whole ordeal.

"Execute her and be done of it." Cheena groans, rolling her head back.

"Darth Cheena makes a point. Remove her at once so they may begin selection." Scutus advises but a cold stare makes him quiet in the corner again.

"A bold strike was made." Sala counters.

"A stupid one." Cheena laughs.

"We don't have time for this." Verrik says, "We have the culprit and now we can move on the selections. We'll deal with you later tonight." He whispers, his warm breath in her ear making her shiver and want to run.

A guard walks behind her and swiftly swats her head. She gasps and collapses and they bind and collect her while the masters walk towards the grandmaster. They whisper something Marcos can't catch before the masters exit the hall. The grandmaster turns and offers another glare for final effect.

"Be gone and if anyone tries this again, her pain will look like nothing."

And with that, he leaves. The students rise as small murmurs fill the air while they leave as well. Nimus looks shaken to her very bones but manages a somewhat strong face.

"Are you ok?" He asks softly and she nods, "Good. Almost died because of that rookie mistake."

"You rushed me." She counters hotly and he shrugs, relieved that the ordeal is over.

"…suspicious that a girl without any track re-"

"She's almost killed someone on thirteen occasions in an equal amount of months." Verrik counters Sala. "She is a powerful but equally uncontrollable student. I'm not surprised at all. From what Scutus has been saying, he's barely been able to teach a full class because someone's always in a medical condition from her."

"No motivation. Why would she go for a technological approach when that's her weakest area?" Sala counters, leaning against glass.

"Throw us off the trail." Cheena offers with a shrug on the table, happy with a new glass of wine.

"Or someone's purposefully done a bad job it looks like her." Elso says as he finishes some wine, "Regardless, I don't think further investigation is needed now we are accepting the older, more clever students. If it happens again, simply bring an Inquisitor."

"Because so many are happy to offer help, you fool." Sala spits, "We're being played. This girl may be a brute but she's not deceitful in murder. She'd do it up front like the Togruta would."

"Apparently those two had a feud. Maybe she's involved?" Elso asks and Verrik nods.

"She was recently put in a medbay bunker yesterday afternoon. But that was related to weakness in a class and not student rivalry."

"Weakness? She's the best swordsmen you have." Elso laughs.

"She can't lift a damn holocron." Verrik explains, "She's as force sensitive as a monkey."

"There's been Jedi mon-"

"Enough Avon." Verrik cuts in, "I will follow Darth Elso on this. If it happens again, I will…seek external assistance. Until then, we simply kill the girl."

Sala raises a brow and Verrik remains silent, no doubt about to have another conversation in private. Those ones usually involved her exploiting a weakness most men had and one he was happy to offer. There hadn't been an entertainer or comforter on this rock in years. Elso nods, happy to get his way while passing off the pad. Verrik picks it up and scans it.

"Your selections? Aside from the Togruta, none of them are gifted. Even she has her weaknesses."

"A weak master sewing weaker seeds." Sala mocks and Cheena smirks before sliding her pad forward with a little less grace than intended.

Sala offers him hers while Avon just stares at him with open eyes, the files next to him. The grandmaster grunts as he reaches over and grabs it, exchanging a cold look with one on cloud nine. He scans through each of them and nods in approval.

"Hopefully in six months we can rangle more masters."

"Or better yet: have four per master." Cheena laughs as she leaves.

Elso nods in respect before leaving to his quarters for the evening and Avon floats onto his feet and leaves in a surprisingly silent fashion for him. Once he leaves, guards follow to make sure he doesn't murder anyone again. They often stay outside his quarters and such to watch him at all times.

Verrik places the holopads down and turns to see Sala leaning into close to him, taking advantage of how alone they were. She smirks as she strokes his neck, down to his padded chest and then the armour of his upper trousers.

"Now, about one of those students…" She begins, dropping to her knees.

Lyris, Macros and Nimus remain silent, alone in the empty room as they kneel and await their next instruction. It was simple. Just head to the room and wait for the instructor to answer. Even Lyris was pulled out of the medbay for this. Her arm has lost its swelling and the metal cast is still in place. Nimus offers them both a look before lowering her head again, seeing how uncomfortable and nervous they are. Marcos in particular is uneasy, thinking over the possibilities of them working out who actually screwed up the droid. It's enough to put him on age and want to constantly hold his hilt. After a few minutes, the door behind them slides up. Someone enters and stands behind them, remining silent. None of them move or speak, refusing to raise their heads.

"Nimus Oto'von. A native of Ryloth. Found a Hutt slave ship. Sixteen. Excels at the academic side of things but a poor swordsmen. Adequate with the force. Lyris T'sana, native of Shili. Seventeen. Savage and brutal with the blade. Extremely capable warrior but also lacks skills with the force. Also has tempter issues. Marcos Vana, unknown world. Orphan found in a travelling a band of traders. Has trouble with the sword but excels with the force. Obedient to the point of being a pet."

Marcos frowns at the last part and the person stands in front of them. He's tall with short black and a small patch of facial hair. His clothing is a simple black jacket with matching trousers and a cloak around them. His forearms are plated and match his thick boots as well. He tosses the holo away and watches the door close before turning to Marcos and Nimus, wiggling his finger.

"Naughty, naughty. Cheating a friend into exile like that. How very _Sith_ of you."

Lyris frowns and resists turning to face them. _So it actually was you…_ Macros develops a cold sweat and contemplates replying but the master continues.

"They still think it was her although next time, don't plan in the middle of an _open_ hallway. I went to the restroom and found you instantly. You need training in discretion and I happen to have been conned into teaching. I am Darth Elso, your new master. Normally, I was only going to take two but…Let's just say my fellow Lords are hardly ones for consensual teaching."

They bow silently again and Elso almost rolls his eyes. _Such spinelessness. I'll have to beat it out of them soon._ He claps his hands together and nods.

"Well then, I think we are done here. I expect you to be on a shuttle to the fleet by this afternoon. We have some business in Nar Shaddaa immediately. We have to prepare for the second trial as soon as possible. Be at hangar thirty one by tonight because that's when we're leaving. If you're not on it, I have less students to be concerned over." He says and looks at them expectantly.

"Yes master." They say in unison and he smiles before leaving them alone.

Lyris instantly glares at the two of them.

"YOU! What were you thinking? If they ha-"

"They clearly didn't. It was a risk that was needed to be taken if that bitch was ever going to go." He argues and he shrugs, "Besides, Nimus knew what she was doing."

"She killed someone."

"I didn't know the damn processors needed filters when the droid was that old!" She rebukes, her Lekku squirming slightly.

"The older the droid, the more power is relied on!" The Togruta snaps and Marcos rolls his eyes.

"Just say what should be said." He says but she stands up, marching out of the room.

"I don't think she wants to say 'thank you.'" Nimus shrugs and the human chuckles as they both get up, heading to get ready.


	5. The Desert Storm

A/N: I'm back. Feel free to R/R but again, no pressure. As usual, any advice or suggestions feel free. Hope you're having a great week

I'm moving forward with the beginnings of the overall plot now. It was kinda hinted at vaguely in chapter 2 and 4 so now I want to lean more heavily into adding some context to it. Otherwise, this chapter is mostly just a character builder between the three students and their master.

I also lack an editor so please forgive the odd typo.

Have fun

No.5 The Desert Storm

The shuttles to and from the imperial fleet are the same they used when the three first arrived on Korriban. Large, open with literally nothing in them aside from rows of chairs and safety bars, the empty ship is probably the best vessel a claustrophobic person can have. The imperial fleet is merely an hour away, as one of the most significant worlds in the entire Empire has to be constantly watched. You can't even land your ship on the surface. You have to land in the fleet and then seek permission and _then_ get a shuttle to the planet. Security is always a nightmare on the world. It's one of the many reasons why leaving it is a dream come true for the three.

Marcos is amusing himself by mediating in the corner, trying to subdue his anxieties of space travel by focusing on nothingness and the peace that follows it. Despite being raised by travelling traders, every moment he spends in the space is a nightmare. Anything could go wrong, literally anything. And the moment something bad happens you can't do anything. A fuel leak. Atmosphere break. Engine rupture. Thousands of scenarios can easily be the reason why you don't return at night and it's why he hated being left on the ship. In exchange for being given food and shelter, he had to make himself useful to the two dozen traders. That meant anything from helping lift things or making sure the ship wasn't being stolen. It was an old, long freighter with most of its room being used for storage. That's why everything was squashed together and why he often had to be subdued due to panic attacks. It's where he developed his fixation on keeping everything even and in order. The moment something _wasn't_ in order, something bad happened. It always happened like that. He clears his throat and clutches his fists tightly as the shuttle vibrates. _Possible control malfunction…Engines overpowering…_

Nimus is far more comfortable travelling in space but lacks his experience. This is her fifth time travelling but the only time she's had enough room to stand or stretch her legs. The other times involved either more students or a cage. The latter makes her rub her emerald arm softly and Marcos shifts on his lap, feeling something off. Nimus swiftly changes topic and looks at the images of yellow light and energy around the window as the ship hurls through the stars towards the edge of the system. It's very relaxing and even beautiful in some regards, to travel endless lengths in mere moments. The fact there's no chains around her make it even more blissful. She leans forward, interlacing her fingers as she tries to see any major ships or fighters before it's announced.

Lyris is across from her, occasionally giving her odd looks due to how relaxed she appears. She looks down again, idly holding her saber and sighing in boredom. She's not one for space either but that's purely because there's rarely anything to do in space. In an empty room like this, there's barely anything to do aside from sitting and staring out into nothing blankly. It's not as if she has anything _against_ that, it's just that she can only do it so many times before she wants to rip a head off. Nimus would probably be the best due to how close she is right now. The ship vibrates again and her stomach twists but it's not her fear. She looks at Marcos out of the corner of her eye. His hands are clenching tightly and his eyes are wound so tight they look like they're about to burst. She leans forward and the Twi'lek looks down from the window above Lyris. The Togruta nods at the human and Nimus watches him for a moment and chews her lip.

"Clearly doesn't like space travel." She whispers and Lyris rolls her eyes.

"That much is clear. I just don't want to fly in a ship in the future with someone who's going to have an anxiety attack every time we leave atmosphere." She mutters in a hushed tone, "He needs to grow up. He's an adult in some systems. In my culture-"

"They practice polygamy and hunt with spears." Nimus chuckles and Lyris smirks.

"And your culture is being chained to a master."

"Says the one with tiny horns."

"At least my Lekku are overcompensating for my smaller bre-"

" _WE ARE NEARING THE FLEET. PREPARE TO ENTER THE HANGAR."_ The intercom reads.

The two halt and Marcos breathes a sigh of relief. Nimus looks out at the windows, seeing several massive images in the area. The fifteenth and eighteenth fleets are some of the most deadly in the entire navy. Twenty capital dreadnaughts, fourteen support vessels and several battering vessels, they are a purely offensive construct build for intergalactic combat and not land invasions. They have no other purpose than to simply defend the planet from invasion. Only a few times in the entire history of the Sith has the system been attacked and not once during the war has anything tried. The Sith are a paranoid species, however, clinging onto the relics of their past as much as the Jedi do now. The idea that anyone would dare try to attack the system would draw laughs from many a Sith but that doesn't mean there aren't idiotic men in the Republic who think they're being brave.

The shuttle creeks and the gravity seems to get slightly stronger as a different atmosphere encases the transport. The group rises and Marcos almost falls over as the floor shakes once the ship lands. The shutter ticks for several moments before the doors open to reveal a neat sheet hangar with dozens of shuttles. The ground is a hard black mat like substance with white lines going in different directions to mark out landing zones. Dozens of guards line the walls as the exit is supervised by a group reading and marking off whoever leaves or enters the ship. This particular vessel, the _Endless Sun,_ is the main processing vessel despite being a military ship. Everyone who leaves or enters the planet goes through here which explains why the majority of the storage areas were hulled out to make more hangers.

Marcos is the first to get off the small ship, breathing deeply once he enters the much larger room only to see the worst possible thing. The endless void of space held back only by the thick blue shield in the hanger. He clenches his fists tightly and attempts to hold back a dry heave while the others exit as well. Lyris doesn't look that particularly impressed, having seen other warships. The fact this is merely a support vessel also doesn't help things. She holds her chin up higher and pushes past Marcos, making sure to give him a strong nudge. Nimus is far more interested in the ship. The large collection of shuttles, the sheer size of the hanger and then the massive view into the abyss. It's unlike anything she's ever seen before. She hastily re-joins the others, taking in every aspect of the ship while they come up the registration bar. The officer looks up and opens another file on his computer, taking it swiftly as he nods to Lyris and Nimus.

"I see the standard for Sith is...becoming interesting."

Lyris places a hand to her belt but the ten guards at the door raise their blasters. The officer smirks while Marcos gives her a small gaze. He clears his throat and places his lightsaber on the bench.

"We're from the temple. We're to head to hangar thirty-one for Darth Elso's orders." He says and the officer begins typing all the information instantly.

"Ah yes. You've been registered already. Any other weapons that you need to declare?"

"Just our lightsabers." He replies and the man nods.

"Head to the hangar by the main elevator. Make any issues and I will personally see your body in the cold vacuum of space and blasted by a cannon."

Marcos sighs and picks up his weapon, nodding. The guards remove themselves as the group heads forward, the large door sliding to the side and revealing a set of a dozen elevators. Marcos presses the button while Nimus turns to Lyris.

"Do you have a compulsive need to fight every damn time?!" She snaps and Marcos sighs again as Lyris staunches at her.

"What did you just say to me? You've been very snippy lately. Did your confidence rise a bit too much now you got rid of Jez in a coward's manner?"

"Enough." Marcos warns, still waiting for the elevator, "I suggested it in the first place. I was the one so if you have a problem, say it to me. And calm the fuck down. These people will kill us for fun. And you," He turns to Nimus, "Stop baiting her. We need to survive this place. I don't winna be the Sith who never even seen a mission.""

They remain silent as the doors finally open and they enter. The two girls glare at each other and roughly barge into each other while entering the tiny compartment. Marcos crosses his arms and tries to calm himself while they ascend to the hangar. The silence and tension becomes uncomfortable and they try to avoid eye contact until the door slides open again.

This hangar is mostly empty except for three other ships of varying class. One of them is rather small and pin shaped with two wings to its side. It's an interceptor, built for speed and space combat but not capable for living in or even staying in for longer than a battle or two. They're disposable and mass produced. The second ship looks like a private vessel. Moderately sized with two cannons on the side, it lacks the size for war but also the refinedness for stealth. _Probably owned by a commander or a Darth_ Marcos notes. The other ship looks like a trading vessel. It's bulky and large and a rusted brown and grey colour. There's a large amount of guards around it and they can see several people on their knees with their hands raised. One of their ramps open and slides to the ground while crates are lowered from it by Imperial guards. An officer sneers as a guard nods at him, patting one of the crates. The group are immediately cuffed and roughly beaten and pulled away as their shipped is emptied. One of them tries to plead but shouts as he's shocked and thrown to the ground.

"Spice trading so close to the temple is a grievous crime."

A silver service droid waddles over and bows. It's extremely thin and covered in silver plates with several bars and antenna on its back. It has an imperial symbol on its back and aside from that looks like the stock standard droid found on hundreds of systems.

"I am VC-72. Your master has requested you watch this." It hands Nimus a communicator. "Thank you for your time."

It bows courteously and then waddles away towards the interceptor. They crowd around her as she presses the button on the side. A flickering blue image of Elso's upper body is formed. His expression is bland and bored and it's clear this is a recording.

" _If you're watching this, you made it. Good. At least you're not that troubled. I've hit a bit of an issue with some pirates holding Sith artefacts. It's possibly linked to the Hutts which is why we're heading to Nar Shaddaa."_ Nimus freezes in terror, " _Now I've had to run off and cut them off but thankfully, there's another ship they were using. It's heading towards the planet now but if you're quick you can intercept before it reaches Hutt space. Take the interceptor I've given you and board it. Retrieve the relics from their bodies and then contact me once you've succeeded. I don't want mistakes. See you soon."_

The image flickers and fades and Nimus places it in her belt. They turn and see the interceptor and begin walking towards it.

"Can either of you fly a ship?" He asks nervously.

"I can try." Nimus shrugs and Lyris chuckles.

"And blow up the processes again? I'll try."

"Enough." Marcos warns again as they approach the officer of this hangar.

She looks up and straightens, bowing at the apprentices.

"You must be the three students Darth Elso informed us about. The interceptor is fuelled and ready. The droid is already in the cockpit so merely enter it as you wish." She explains, typing that they're departing at the current time.

"The droid?" Nimus asks and she nods and scans her notes.

"A…VC unit I have here."

They nod and then head towards the small vessel before Marcos feels the dry heaving return.

"How are we going to fit?" He asks, failing to hide the panic but Lyris continues.

"We'll be fine. The trip won't be long." Nimus says as she pats his shoulder.

He nods stiffly and forces his heavy legs forward. The rear of the fighter splits down the middle and a ramp lowers, allowing them to carefully climb in. There's only two seats in the extremely stuffed compartment. In front of the tiny passenger room is a single seat cockpit where the VC unit is pressing several of the controls. Lyris sits down and so does Nimus and then Marcos struggles to bring his quivering body onto the floor. The ramp ascends again and the compartment turns dark with the only light being several tiny blue lights. The human begins asking for a quick death softly in his mind.

"Welcome." The VC unit states, "I hope you have a pleasant flight. The ship should be halfway towards the Hutt system as we speak, so we must leave now." It explains and the fighter vibrates, making Marcos squirm.

"Do you have fighting capabilities?" Lyris asks as the fighter lifts off and slowly turns.

Marcos clutches the bottom of Lyris' seat desperately and she goes to glare at him only to see his desperate glance. She grunts and shakes her hand and Marcos stares at the floor, only to feel someone patting his hand softly. He looks up to see she's staring at the cockpit, her strong yet surprisingly softly holding him.

"No. But this fighter is armed with sufficient weaponry to break into the shields and then into hangar of the freighter. An imperial ship is not in the same tier as a mere pirate freighter."

The freighter leaves the ship and begins to wobble and shift as the feeling of zero gravity takes some adjusting for the fighter. The droid straightens it and they swiftly race forward, leaving the shadow of the large support ship.

"And our shields?" Nimus asks as the stars begin to shine blue.

"I don't plan to get hit with their slow cannons. It is unlikely they can match our speed." It answers as they shake, the ship entering hyperspace.

"That doesn't answer my question." Nimus sighs.

An hour of dry heaving and sweating later, Marcos feels the fighter exit hyperspace and clutches his knees. The freighter is a horrid sight in turns of colour, as the pirates clearly have dozens of icons they felt they needed to covered it with. In terms of size, it's about a third of the size of the support ship on Korriban but the vast majority of it are the massive storage areas at the back. The three engines are swiftly pushing forward but it doesn't seem to be trying to enter hyperspace. The fighter swiftly jerks to the left and barrels downwards as dozens of thick red blasts are fired at them. Marcos clutches the sides in panic as his face flushes a deep red, wishing this nightmare could just end. The fighter dodges them superbly as the droid programs each move perfectly.

"I have been following the ship for the last thirteen minutes. It was damaged by Darth Elso and seems to be having issues entering hyperspace. Prepare to exit, the hangar is about to be targeted."

Marcos bites back the vomit as the others clutch the safety bars tightly, trying to handle the swift changes in momentum. The pressures in their heads from the changing momentums is giving them a sharp headache and Nimus bites her lips while wincing, her head getting thrown back sharply. The fighter dives under the ship and spins upwards, seeing a small blue entrance where the hangar resides. The fighter unleashes four rail cannons, swiftly firing dozens of rounds a second as the shields wobble and crack under the pressure. Eventually, they break off and the blue flickers and fades. The fighter zooms in instantly and Marcos slides back, hissing. Without landing on the dirty and bloodied hangar bay, the fighter hovers and lowers the ramp. Behind them a thick set of door slide along the hangar, cutting off the suction from the vacuum of shape and restabilising the pressure.

"Contact Darth Elso once you secure the vessel." VC instructs as Marcos dashes out of the ship.

"And you?" Nimus asks.

"I am to return to the fleet." It answers and she nods, swiftly following Lyris.

Once they are clear, VC turns the fighter around and bursts into the second entrance of the hanger, disappearing within two seconds. Marcos coughs and unleashes his stomach before coughing again, his head spinning as he struggles to handle himself. Nimus quickly draws her weapon and deflects a shot as a dozen pirates with varying weapons and get ups run from the entrance of the ship. Lyris charges forward, force pulling one close and slashing his chest and then spinning to rip through another's leg. He screams are silenced by her weapon driving into his chest. She rises as Nimus sweeps across the room, deflecting their shots with the saber and then hissing as she throws her hand forward. Several of them fly through the air with a shout, straight towards the Togruta, who spins her blade and severs their bodies with a quick flourish before they land. The remaining pirates shout into a comm while running back to the exit. The hangar door shakes and then breaks off, flying at them and crushing them completely. Marcos pants and spits, lowering his hand and taking a moment to breathe. He coughs again and gets up, walking towards the others.

The hangar is filled with other ships. Small cargo ships, a transport ship and even a Republic repair ship are thrown around the large hull without any order or structure to it. The hangar doorway shakes and creaks as two sets of thick blast doors seal them in. The ceiling hisses as dozens of small turrets lower down and face them. Marcos instantly pulls the hangar door off the bodies with his mind and makes it fly in front of the three. He hisses at the weight and pressure forming on his wrist.

"HURRY!" He shouts to them as the turrets hammer into the thick metal with red blasts, already melting the metal.

The two girls run to the blast doors and Nimus looks around the door. She sighs as she finds a control panel and pulls it off, revealing the circuits. She kneels and hastily begins playing with them as the wall begins turning into a slob of burning metal slag. Marcos hisses, throwing the wall at several of the turrets and Lyris stands next to him, blocking the dozens of lasers being hurled at them. Nimus places several wires together and then thrusts them into a port, overpowering the system. The doors instantly ascend and they run backwards into the halls. Marcos turns too soon and leans into the wall, screaming as he feels a burning sensation melt his shin. The others turn and Lyris raises an eyebrow only to be rewarded with a glare from him.

"I'm fine. Let's go." He says, limping with them through the hallway as she says nothing.

The ship is old and trashy, with parts thrown everywhere and bottles and food being left without any care at all. Lyris takes the lead and scans the corridor only to see nothing the entire way. _Where are they?_ They eventually find the stairs and attempt to ascent it only to see that it's barred with several creates and has six blasters poking through some holes. Lyris rolls her saber in her hands as an intercom turns on.

" _Sith children."_ A cocky voice enters and Marcos already wants to roll his eyes, " _Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Harvan, captain of the Desert Storm. We are more than willing to give you some of the cargo here in exchange for our lives. They are worth quite some amount of credits, I assure you."_

"Yeah?" Marcos asks mockingly.

"Where are the artefacts? We're kinda busy right now." Nimus says, her eyes never leaving the blasters pointing at them.

" _What artefacts? We are merely goods traders and nothin-"_

"Enough." Lyris shouts, "Where are they? We will kill every last one of you until the relics are returned to us."

There's a pause and Lyris and Marcos exchange looks. Nimus is busy with the blasters and what method of attack she should go with. After a moment the intercom sounds in again.

" _We doubt that. We have dealt with Sith b-"_

"You're alive so I doubt that." Lyris says evenly and once more there's silence.

"Are they having a committee meeting up there?" Marcos chuckles and Lyris turns to him.

"The barrier." She mouths silently, "Lift the barrier."

He nods but does nothing, awaiting the captain to speak again. Lyris taps her foot impatiently, already wanting to dive at the guards.

"Just wait for us." Marcos says softy and she scoffs but listens to him.

" _We will give you one last chance to turn-"_

"Fuck this." Lyris grunts and Marcos nods.

He raises his hands with Nimus and together they push upwards against the barrier. The crates creak and groan before the makeshift wall is pulled into the air along with the blasters slotted into it. The pirates gasp as they stumble backwards and Lyris leaps forward, lightsaber already slashing. The sounds of their screams are quick. She's always to the point and precise. Being a sadist isn't one of her traits, surprisingly. Nimus and Marcos push the sheet of metal to the side and walk, or in Marcos' case, limp towards Lyris and read over the burnt and severed bodies. They try to ignore the uncomfortable smell of burning flesh as they finish climbing the staircase.

"We should head to the captain for the relics. The ship is too big to search on our own." Nimus says as they cross the eating area and Marcos nods.

"Agreed. He seems pretty confident in himself." He says but Lyris shrugs.

"Pirates aren't known for their intellect." She answers and they nod, seeing her point. "I think we should cut it out of him."

"We probably will have to. That being said, don't kill or break him before we use him. We can't have a wasted resource."

She pauses and turns to him.

"You think I'm that stupid? That I'm just a brute?"

"At no point in our entire knowing of each other have I thought that. I just let setting ground rules. It comes with…" He stops and she leans in.

"Yeah, it comes with your damn order issue." He stops, not knowing how to respond as a wave of insecurity hits him, "You're not exactly subtle about it."

She begins walking again, leaving a stunned Marcos. After several steps she begins to feel guilty but presses on, huffing silently as she nears the next set of stairs and then the armoury. Nimus offers a small smile but walks after her, leaving him to look at the ground and glare at it. _That…That utter bitch. Who the hell does she think she is?_ He begins to storm after them, random objects shaking around him as he clutches his hilt firmly. The sharp pain is his burnt leg limits his speed but he ignores as much as he can. _Damned Togruta. You have no damn respect. You need it. You need it beat into you for heaven's sake._ He pushes past Nimus just as they enter the large armoury and opens his mouth to shout but stops.

A massive machine with electric pikes spins on its wheel of a foot and stares at them with a singular blue light on its head. It's huge. Three times their height with a massive orange frame that's the size of a tank. The thick wheel at the bottom groans but seem to be supporting its weight well but can possibly be a weakness. Its arms are thick and from the forearm onwards is a large green pole shooting off large amounts of electricity. Macros backs away as the intercom turns on again.

" _This is why we asked you politely to leave, children. Now I wonder how much three Sith lightsabers could sell for to the Hutts."_

The machine lashes forward, throwing the pikes forward. Nimus and Lyris leap to the side and Marcos attempts to jump backwards but his leg makes it difficult. He slams his saber along the pikes but it doesn't cut through. Macros' mouth gapes in confusion but then shouts as his body is shocked. The machine spins sideways, knocking back Lyris from her jumping strike and tossing her into a wall. She swiftly crawls up and jumps from the pike being lodged into the wall. It retracts its arm and then spins again, slamming both pikes down near Nimus. The moment anyone gets near, the damn thing knocks them away from it and each other.

Marcos raises his palms and the others follow but the thing is too heavy to lift. Knowing something is possibly happening, the machine quickly lashes at them in quick succession. They dive out of the way but it charges after Lyris. Throwing its two pikes downwards, the machine almost crushes her but at the last second she's thrown several metres away. Marcos nods at her and then lifts several guns and batons and other weapons in the armoury, hurling them at the machine. The thick chaste removes any threat and it rolls towards him so he tries hurling them at the single leg. It quickly swats the objects away but one of the batons manages to scar its side. It continues its pursuit but stops and immediately turns to strike at Nimus before she can leap off a wall and onto its head. At the same time Lyris does the same tactic. Instead of striking her, it rolls backwards and lets her fall in front of it before slashing at her legs. Marcos whips her backwards and she rolls to his side just as Nimus skirts to their area as well.

"We need to take out the wheel." Marcos says and Lyris nods.

"You two are stronger than me. Hold back it's pikes and I'll strike the wheel." She orders and Nimus instantly reaches her hands out and Marcos does the same.

They hiss as they try to latch the force around the thick pikes as Lyris sprints forward. The pressure in their arms threatens to break and they slowly start sliding forwards with the pull the machine is giving them. They manage to slow down the arms but it doesn't last long. Just as Lyris gets within a metre they break their hold and almost collapse as the machine smashes into the metal next to her. She hisses as she goes flying, her lightsaber rolling on the floor. Nimus quickly gets up first and pulls the hilt into her palm while Marcos tries to push at it, only getting it away a few inches. He grits his teeth to see it fail again and again. He turns to Nimus and gestures to the pikes.

"Lyris and I will hold back the sabers but you need to cut down the wheel."

"But Lyr-"

"Is FINE. Get ready." He orders and she nods, handing her Lyris' saber.

He runs towards her and pulls her arm, letting her to her feet and passing her the weapon.

"Use the saber and hold back the left arm." He says and he steps forward, giving her no choice but to follow.

The machine spins and then thrusts its right arm at him. He digs his feet into the ground and thrusts his weapon forward, knocking back the pike and hissing at the shocks. Lyris stands at his side and starts knocking back the left again, wincing as it shocks her well. Together, they slowly jab and block, doing whatever they can to hold its attention without dying. Suddenly, it throws both pikes down and they cross lightsabers, wincing and watching their arms bend as they desperately try not to be crushed by the sheer weight of the metal. Their shoulders rub together and they tense as their muscles contort and shrink with the pain. The shocks aren't quite on par with the instructors but it still hurts like hell. They slowly slide back, hissing as their eyes water with agony as the machine rolls forward endlessly. A slash is heard and then it creaks loudly before its eye flashes. It begins to fall towards them and they deactivate their weapons and run to the side. It collapses onto its chest and then a blur on green jumps onto its back and removes its head. Nimus pants loudly as she stumbles back, falling on her rear and catching her breathe, wiping away the sweat.

Marcos cups his torn burn and winces, seeing blood drop down around his trousers. The damn thing is probably infected now. He looks up and nods at her in approval and even Lyris does the same. Nimus waves back before allowing her loose body slide off the droid and staggering on weak legs. She grins as she points to the burning rubble.

"And who says tactics don't work?" She chuckles.

"Don't let it go to your head." Lyris snorts before gesturing to the door on the other side, "Shall we?"

"We shall." Marcos nods as they begin walking towards the door.

They enter another set of stairs and then find another blast door. Marcos sighs, nodding to Nimus who already has started walking towards the control panel. The static sound of the intercom starts again.

" _L-look. W-we can make…We can make a profit together! We can both can walk away from this with an extremely larg-"_

Lyris turns to the kneeling Twi'lek.

"You almost done?" She asks in a bored tone and she nods.

" _Look, I can't give away that-"_

The door slides open and she quickly steps back. The control room is a medium sized room with a dozen sets of controls and a large control seat in the centre, overlooking the large windows into the vacuum of space. A dozen shaking pirates raise their tiny pistols. The Rodian man at the end of the room is shaking, pointing at him with a sucker-ended finger.

"Please! We're ju-"

Lyris lifts their weapons into the air and Marcos hurls them into the ceiling and they watch as they drop to the ground. They silently step around them and Marcos offers a polite smile as he places his hands behind him.

"I am a Sith and you have a relic of ours." He extends his palm, "Now." He orders.

The Rodian sniffs loudly before reaching into his jacket, pulling out a large amulet with ancient sith carvings. It's made from a golden metal and the carvings have been filled in with purple paint, giving it an even texture.

"It's all we have. Check the manifesto. We're just…We _were_ just spice dealers. The Hutts paid us for supplying them with the stuff. We just get it from the edge of the Outer Rim and then-"

"Where'd you find it?" He asks, grabbing it with the force.

The object is light and soft but comfortable to touch. The pads of his fingers feel overly sensitive and an unease slides down his spine. Marcos slowly grimaces at it and then conceals it in his cloak.

"A trader thought it was some jewel but one of the crew thought it looked Sith. We were near…Sullest, I think." He answers and Marcos nods, "Look, you can have it now. The damn thing has been giving us nightmares. We were going to sell it to the Hutts and head to the neutral zone with the loot. Just let me leave, please."

"And let you open your mouth to others?" Lyris scoffs and then her features harden, "No. We'll make it painless."

Marcos is about to interrupt when Nimus tackles him to the ground. The sound of blaster fire echoes in the room as Lyris deflects it straight at him. He lurches forward and collapses into the ground.

"Thanks." He says to the Twi'lek before heading over to the controls. "And what the hell?" He shouts at Lyris but the arrogant girl ignores him, making him seethe.

Nimus is next to him and after a moment points to one of the control panels, trying to break off the potential fight.

"VC was right. Master Elso must've caused a leak. They've been struggling to stabilise power."

"Why not just take the other ships in the hold?" Lyris asks gruffly.

"We don't know if he was hiding other artefacts in the cargo. We need to inspect it." He answers, "Do you think we can get to Nar Shaddaa from here?"

"I'll need to check the engines first." She replies and quickly exits the room, leaving Marcos with a frowning Togruta.

"What?" He asks, not looking away from the manifesto on the panel in front of him.

"You saved me twice today." She admits, looking away uncomfortably.

"Kiss me twice and we'll be even." He drawls, not really paying attention.

She stiffens and crosses her arms.

"I'm trying to say thank you. I won't…I'll try not to mention the structure issue."

He freezes, suddenly remembering her previous comments from the lower decks. He turns and nods, walking towards her, a foot away from her face. She looks at him in confusion and slight unease, unused to such close proximity to others. He reaches forward and strokes the side of her face, his rough finger caressing her cheek and then the area where her Lek and face meets. She flushes and opens her mouth, not knowing what to say.

And then she's roughly slammed into the wall, hissing at the blunt pain. His fingers are on her smooth throat, massaging the strong muscles underneath and slowly squeezing them as she airways cease to work. He leers at her, not caring about the height difference as his eyes vibrate lightly.

"You _EVER_ mention my issue again…I'll do more than kill you." He whispers, his hands beginning to shake as the boiling feeling in his chest become uncomfortable and uneasy.

She stares at him, no emotion on her face. No desire to run or fight back as she looks at the human. His hatred and unsettled emotions, his hurt and embarrassment flowing off of him like solar rays off a sun. She soaks it all up, every last piece of it. After a moment she leans down and Marcos twitches, preparing to strike her or run or something. Her left horn softly rubs on the top of his hair. He freezes as she does the same her with right as her eyes close, rubbing his hair all over before her expression hardens again. She roughly pushes him off and even kicks at his burnt leg, making him shout in pain her clutches it desperately. She huffs and makes her way over to the control panel just as Nimus enters with a datapad and a kit.

"Now we can make the jump if we cut of-"

She stops and looks directly at Marcos, her green eyes looking over every inch of him. She seems to sniff at the air and Marcos notices her Lekku wiggling softly before she turns to Lyris' back. She glares at her and then throws the pad at her which stops mid air. The Togruta turns around and collects the floating object and begins to read it.

"Shut off the systems then." She says casually as the other girl's mouth gapes a little.

She huffs and turns to Marcos.

"Resume the flight path." She orders, her palms clenched.

Marcos gets up and nods, stumbling over to the controls and pressing the ones he _thinks_ are needed. After Nimus does something to the datapad the ship hums and several lights turn off before the stars begin to turn blue. Blue energy encases the ship and they exit into hyperspace at last. The human reaches into his robes and pulls out the amulet, placing it on a bench so the others can inspect it. He points to the several icons around it.

"Like the ones in the tomb right?" He asks but Nimus shakes her head.

"These are older. I don't recognise any of these words. Could be anything from just before the Dark Ages to just a few centuries ago. And that's a ten thousand year gap. Anything in the manifold?" She asks him.

"Aside from spice? No. There was one reference to a name I've heard before but when I clicked on it, the entry was emptied. Someone, most likely him," He thrusts a thumb at the dead captain, "may have deleted it when they got the relic. I don't know though." He shrugs, looking at the metal curiously, "Does feel off though. I didn't like touching it."

"What was the name?" Lyris asks and he walks back over to the panel, searching for it.

"Hmmm. Ah! A…Marka Ragnos." He answers, "Remember him?"

They both shrug. Lyris can't even recall the name while Nimus chews her lip, knowing it from somewhere. He was definitely a Sith from centuries ago. _But who was he…_ She sighs and shakes her head, giving them an apologetic look. Marcos looks at the endless stream of blue before shrugging himself.

"No matter. Darth Elso will probably know. When are we due to the Hutt world?" He asks and Nimus looks over his shoulder.

"Seven hours." She answers and he nods before she pulls out the comm. "Better let him know."

She presses the button and it vibrates several times before the glass top turns blue and the top half of man's body is shown. He looks up and inspects the three of them, breaking into a small grin.

" _So you didn't die. Well done. Did you like my little game?"_

"You planned this?" Lyris asks, slightly annoyed.

" _Needed to know if mere pirates are an issue. Clearly not. Did you retrieve the relics?"_

"All we got was an amulet with ancient markings. We can't find anything else." Marcos answers but his master seems relieved.

" _Good. I thought there was only one. If there was another…Anyway, well done. Land in the city of N'vu P'vu, landing zone eight. It's an imperial zone so you should be fine. I'll await you there."_

"Before you go," Nimus cuts in and swiftly lowers her head, "Master, can I ask you something?"

Elso stares at her, seeing how uneasy the girl is. He furrows a brow but nods, intrigued.

"Who was Marka Ragnos? He was mentioned on the ship." She explains.

He doesn't answer and just stares at her, making her shuffle in her feet. And then he smiles again.

" _No one you need to worry about. Just an old Darth from a few centuries back. He might have owned that relic, hence why we want to study it. On a similar note, probably don't hold the amulet too long. I'd rather study it untainted. Elso out."_

His image flickers and vanishes. Nimus puts the comm back in her robes and watches as Lyris exits the command deck.

"Taking a nap." She grunts and the doors close.

The Twi'lek soon stares at the human and he bops his head, trying not to feel uncomfortable.

"Yes?" He asks as he buffs out his chest in a sore attempt not to look put off.

She doesn't reply, putting the kit on the bench. She reaches down and grabs his ankle, making him gasp and writhe in agony as she places his leg in front of her. She pulls off his boot with some difficulty and then pulls up the trouser leg, revealing charred flesh with a rip down the middle where blood is leaking. She opens the kit and pulls out several syringes and a bacta patch. He looks into her eyes and she smirks, thrusting a large needle deeply into the wound. He screams deeply as his vision fades. The liquid pours into him and burns like hell as he tries to move. She holds him down and glares at him. _That's what you get for being scented._ She pulls it out and he pants deeply.

"Helps with any infection. We'll need to get you to a medic when we land." She says as she pushes another needle deep into him.

He hiss and grimaces but a numbing sensation overcomes it. His breathing evens out as she places a patch on his burns, sealing it off from the air. She pats his leg softly and he slides it off, not used to the sensation of walking without feeling.

"Thank you."

She remains silent, merely walking past him. But as she does so, he feels one of her Lek slide onto his shoulder and massage his arm for a split second before she leaves, smirking to herself as she leaves a confused human. _Togruta brute…_


	6. Nar Shaddaa

A/N: I'm back. Feel free to R/R but again, no pressure. As usual, any advice or suggestions feel free. Hope you're having a great week

This will helpfully push the plot forward a bit more, especially in turns of what's happening with the relic and why the Inquisitor was tearing up a ship for someone. It also implies why Lyris has been a tad unstable lately and why Nimus is reacting why she has been.

I also lack an editor so please forgive the odd typo.

Have fun

No.6 Nar Shaddaa

"How can you not know how to land?" Lyris asks in a huff, leaning over the slightly panicked Twi'lek as she tries to press dozens of buttons at once.

"Well I haven't exactly flown that many ships in my time!" She snaps back.

Marcos rolls his eyes, opening the control screen and attempting to find the landing procedures. Reaching the system on a busted engine seems to be a simple thing compared to just landing the freighter. The ships sounding the dark city planet are either trade vessels, Hutt barges or pirate warships. The majority of them are avoiding the atmosphere, trying not to pay the extremely large docking fees the Hutt Cartel seems to think is justified for using their resources but still trying to pass off their goods. Goods they've stolen from countless worlds. The communicator array vibrates again and Marcos activates it.

" _This is the last time we will ask you to transfer the fees. Do it or we'll shoot you from the sky."_ A hiss commands and Marcos leans in.

"We are Sith. We commandeered this vessel and have been cleared to enter the Imperial quarter." He repeats for the third time, "Take the fee up with them. Shoot us down and you'll have to explain why three expected Sith never arrived with cargo that they wanted."

There's a pause and Marcos sighs in relief, spinning on his chair to see the two women still arguing over the controls. Ever since this morning, they have been at each other's throats. Even the more passive Nimus is taking shots at the Togruta with enough venom to make her pause and actually take time to think of a better swipe. And while it was initially amusing, it's now boarding on violent and dangerous. A bolted down chair was pulled up and thrown at Marcos when he last tried to intervene so he's since decided to stop. And then they started to be hailed by the native security, swiftly being threatened with nonexistence until they paid up. They contemplated offering them the cargo but they still don't know what's in there and if there's any more relics they need to gather. The whining of the comms makes him turn around again, pressing his thumb into the button.

"Yes?" He grunts.

" _We have gained the credits from the Imperial Embassy. Land swiftly. We have more ships to deal with."_ The Trandoshan curtly says before the comm link disappears from the scanner.

He leans back and releases his thumb, rubbing it softly. The sounds of them arguing makes his head ache softly and he groans.

"For the love of the gods, please land!" He shouts at them, not bothering to turn around so he can avoid the glares.

Nimus pushes Lyris away and scans through options before lowering the ship into the atmosphere and heading into the massive towers of the city. Unlike the similar city-world of Coruscant, Nar Shaddaa is mostly massive, thick towers linked by bridges or traversed via barges and not millions of buildings squeezed next to themselves. The sun rarely appears anymore. The population of the Hutts has left a thick smog over the entire planet, hence the darkness around them and the need with millions of lights being used. A group of these large towers hold a red flag with the imperial insignia in black along their front with a massive landing pad and several docks for larger ships joining them. The comms whine again and Marcos resumes his now usual job.

" _Vessel, your master has cleared you for Port 13. Latch on and exit. We will search the ship immediately."_ A stiff voice instructs.

"Thank you. We will dock immediately."

" _As you were."_

The Twi'lek hums, pressing another option and winces as she watches the ship almost crash into one of the ports. The magnetic locks latch onto the freighter and holds it still, making her wipe her forehead as the ship shakes violently. She gets up once it stabilises and only just notices the Togruta roll her eyes as she walks towards the exit. She turns to Marcos but he cuts her off before she can open her mouth.

"Don't even try. Not getting involved in between you." He says as he wraps his cloak around the amulet.

He immediately stops, his stomach turning as he feels nauseous suddenly. He clears his throat only to feel it tighten and send an unpleasant feeling to his belly. He braces himself against a wall and waits for a moment for it to pass but it never comes. He closes his eyes and marches on, trying to ignore it. Nimus remains silent but notices his immense discomfort, taking note of it for later. She collects her lightsaber from the desk in front of her and then gets up to follow the others. They're waiting at the docking hatch and Lyris is already impatient, arms crossed and brows furrowed. She sneers at the Togruta and stands behind them. _It's only been one minute, you brute. Learn some control._

Lyris looks behind her and sees the Twi'lek staring at her and she bucks her chin up at her challengingly. Nimus gives her a silent hiss but Marcos clears his throat, making them face the latch as it opens. The smell of smoke and other foul things makes them want to gag and Marcos begins to envy the helmets of the troopers in front of them. A dozen guards and two dozen other men are in front of them along with a stoic Elso and an officer with a steel box beside him. Elso is standing stiff, almost as much as the staunch officer next to him, his hands on his belt. He's wearing dark imperial plated armour with a worn brown coat over it, hiding just how armoured he is.

The trio exit the ramp and Marcos steps forward with his cloak in his hands. Elso looks at him curious but Marcos nods at it. He reaches into it and closes his eyes, wincing softly as he pulls out the amulet. He instantly places the relic into the box gingerly and rubs his hand as it's sealed and given to a _squad_ of soldiers to escort. Marcos sighs, feeling the sickness leave instantly. Elso turns and casually throws his arm forward. The search team quickly race up the ramp and into the freighter and then he turns to the students. Nimus notices the bags under his eyes and how worn he looks just a day after meeting them for the first time. He places his hands into front of him and nods.

"Well done in succeeding. I trust the pirates weren't too much of an issue?" Silence answers him and he gives a soft smile, "Well done. Any information that I need to know about them?"

"They acquired it on Sullest from a trader who apparently didn't know what it was. The captain then planned to sell it to the Hutts." Marcos says but Elso immediately corrects him.

"The artefact was stolen from an imperial transport near the edge of our boarders. They were taking it here to sell it off to a bounty hunter who we think was paid off by the Republic."

Marcos remains completely silent, not knowing how to handle the complete rebuke. Anticipating the choking or shocking, he takes a silent deep breath and stiffens his bone, keeping his eyes lowered. Elso leans forward in his ear.

"Learn to read minds. Pirates aren't exactly priests in terms of honesty." He whispers before leaning back, speaking louder, "Looks like the temple has been more rushed than we expected. But that will be later." He eyes Marcos' patched leg and he nods to the side, "The medic will take care of you." He passes them a second comm, "I'll meet you in your apartment later tonight to discuss why you're here."

The officer looks at him and he nods, allowing the officer to step forward.

"We trust you will forget that you had this artefact?" He expresses, humming loudly as he awaits their answer.

They nod softly and Elso gives another tired smile before turning and leading the officer off to a tent in the corner where a group of officers are overlooking a map of the city. Lyris opens the comm, seeing a holomap of the Imperial Quarter with the apartments marked out. They need to board a barge to the tower across from them and then head to one of the top floors. The sounds of cheering and loud shouts makes Nimus uncomfortable, not really liking the Hutt version of partying, especially when it involved her species. The planet has a massive feeling of partying but not the happy, easy type of partying. Drug crazed, stripping fuelled parties with weapons being fired casually to laughter would be a far better description of the climate here. Lyris does her best to ignore it but even she finds the endless shouting unnerving. The silence of the imperial buildings seems to be a stark contrast to the rest of the world and she wonders what they had to offer the Hutts to get this region.

They move past the troopers, watching them pass datapads or march around, not really doing anything of use. The most interesting thing on the landing platform is the group of bounty hunters hotly arguing with an officer. Several of them are holding their guns tightly only for the troopers around them to raise their rifles and charge them.

"This is pointless. This is the agreed sum." The officer says, gesturing to the credit cache in between them, "Take it or leave it." She spits and a female Rodian growls but a human nudges her.

The leader, a heavily scarred Weequay, clenches his fists tightly but steps forward, picking up the cache and tossing it to a large Besalisk who catches it with three arms, the fourth still holding a gun. They exchange violent looks with their leader as they stroll off towards their barge, one of them spitting at a soldier's foot. Marcos frowns. _We'd probably get a better reception in the Republic than with this scum pile. These people are more likely to shoot you than look at you._ He begins hastily eyeing around him in a paranoid figure until he notices the medical tent.

"I'll catch you at the apartment." He pats his burn lightly, "I'll get this looked at."

The girls nod and he leaves without another word, making them be alone for the first time since leaving the temple. They exchange a silent look as they continue to the edge of the platform where a group of barges are. A clerk looks up from his datapad and eyes them before quickly noticing the lightsabers. He tries to smile but it comes across as a nervous twitch.

"Where t-to?" He asks, clutching the steel tightly.

"The apartments." Lyris answers immediately as she enters the large floating platform with a decorative sail in the middle.

She seats at the back and places her feet on the side while Nimus seats evenly at the front. The clerk punches into the coordinates with sweating digits and smiles in relief as the engines fire up. The two Sith students move through the city at a decent place, avoiding the considerably unmanaged traffic and wincing at the bright lights on the billboards. Nimus looks down as she sees a large image of a Twi'lek bound with a price on the bottom, offering the location of an auction. Her stomach becomes loose as she silently seethes, her grip tightening on her saber as images of her gutting a Hutt threatens to make her smile. Lyris experiences a strong desire to kill a Hutt herself and turns to stare at her, frowning. _Control yourself, girl._

Taking her mind off the pissy Twi'lek, she looks around and sees a large party on a street several towers away. Dozens of people are slumping everywhere and barely managing to walk as they laugh and continue watching the dancing girls on barred pedestals. She squints and sees someone try to grope one of them. A bolt of red knocks him down and she watches a slender figure casually walk over and place his pistol above his head, releasing another shot. The people watch in silence before turning away and drinking some more as the body is thrown off the street and sent hurling down to the dark depths below. The figure nods to several other bouncers while the bartenders, despite having dozens of them along the street, seem to struggle against the large amounts of masses. Someone tries to threaten one but another bouncer shoots him just as fast as the previous man was.

 _This planet is barbaric._ She rolls her eyes and leans back, tapping the rail of the barge as the automated vessel draws closer to another imperial tower. This one is shorter and more basic from the others, not having a landing platform or ports. The flag at the front is shorter and broader as well. The barge floats upwards and halts in front of a large door abouttwo thirds up and a ramp extends out the side. Nimus quickly stands up and ignores her partner as she exits the barge. Lyris grits her teeth, considering letting in to the urges of beating the girl to a pulp before rising as well.

The interior is lined with guards and the reception desk where Nimus is already speaking to the human male seating down. He types in their details as she walks off towards the lift and Lyris stalks behind her, ignoring the call of the receptionist. The lift is quiet but thankfully short as the duo rub shoulders, literally this time. They exit and Lyris takes the lead this time but Nimus cuts her off, shoving in the numbers the comm has recorded for them. The moment the door is opened Nimus is roughly shoved to the ground. She rolls around to see Lyris shutting the door and straddling her, clutching her throat as she snarls at the Twi'lek.

"I am _sick_ of this attitude. Learn respect, you stupid girl."

"Fuck off…slut." She spits.

Nimus grabs her wrists and pours some force into it, gripping the bones with unhuman strength and making Lyris hiss and release her throat. Nimus knees her side and uses the distance to tackle her along the cheap sofa. She grabs a horn and tries to smother her face into the leather but she's levitated into the air and thrown into the ceiling. She grunts but as she drops she pushes Lyris into the wall, her nose smacking into the brown paint and making her dizzy for a split second. Nimus goes in for another charge but Lyris pushes at her again. Lyris' skill with the force was always weaker but Nimus isn't prepared and is pulled to her, forcing her to sliding along the ground to her feet. Reaching out, she tries to choke the girl with the force but Lyris flicks her hand to the side and a cup flies into her head. She staggers backwards and Lyris rises, grabbing her throat and kicking her legs out. The smash into the ground makes her go still. Lyris smirks for a moment.

"Arrogant bitch." She coughs.

 _Stronger than you look._ She sits on her rear, panting slightly as she watches the girl. Still no movement. A slight moment of panic threatens to form but she represses it as she slaps the girl's cheek softly. And then harder. And then gives her a very loud backhand. Nimus' body lurches upwards as she winces and groans, glassy eyes opening and attempting to see around her. She immediately mumbles something desperately, flailing her arm to her head to the somewhat amusement of Lyris. Then she grabs her left Lek which was under her and clutches it softly, still mumbling in a broken voice as it squirms unnaturally fast. Lyris stills, realising how she knocked the girl out so easily.

"Can you see straight?" She grunts, clicking her fingers at the mumbling girl, "NIMUS. Can…you…see…normally?"

The girl shakes her head and mumbles incoherently. Lyris reaches around and picks her up, quickly looking around and then walking several steps to put her on one of the bunks. _At least it's better than the temple._ The apartment is a very simple and cheap thing, probably bought or rented from the Hutts for next to nothing. The kitchen is next to the tiny dining area which in turn is a part of the lounging room consisting of two small sofas. A door to the left reveals the refresher while the right door reveals two double bunks. _Still looks like the place travellers stay for a night when they only have two credits._

She places a pillow under Nimus' head and then a separate one under the swelling Lek as she rubs her mouth in thought. Due to the connection with the brain, Lekku aren't only extremely sensitive but also have major medical risks if struck with enough force. Anything from a strong concussion to brain damage is possible due to the lack of a bone structure unlike the brain mass in their heads. After a moment of thinking she pulls out the comm and flips it around, revealing a tiny typing pad. Using the tips of her fingernails, she types in what she thinks was the code for the comm that Marcos is currently holding.

"If you've already thrown it out…" She hisses as she waits for a response while Nimus continues to mumble.

Several throbs later a form appears. A very strained and uncomfortable Marcos appears, his eyes closed and his lips bitten raw as a grunt escapes his mouth. He finally opens them after a moment and is taken aback by Lyris.

" _How…did…"_

"I have a good memory." She snaps, "Are you still at the medical bay?"

" _Ah…yes. Just got the last strap of infection removed and padded. Why?"_

"Ask the medic for a scanner. Nimus…She tripped. One of her Lekku may have gone into shock. If that's the case, there's a liquid called Ivirian. Get it. It's meant for re-establishing the blood flow between Lek and the brain while deswelling it. It's common on planets like this."

He pauses, eyeing her up. She grits her teeth, not seeing the point in any of this. Nimus groans and begins to shiver and one of the walls cracks. Lyris looks down and sees the girl clenching her hands and each time she does so, the crack increases. Lyris pokes her cheek and then begins feeling uncomfortable, not knowing what to do. She turns back to a still sceptical Marcos and almost spits into the transmitter.

"JUST HURRY UP!" She barks and turns it off, tossing it to the floor.

She leans down and examines the Lek for a moment, gently tracing it to see how Nimus reacts. She seizes up and Lyris swiftly pulls it away, resuming her awkward stance of sitting on the edge of the mattress with her limbs crossed.

Marcos knocks on the door several times, wincing as he tries to lessen the weight on his leg as the painkillers wear off. _Meant to last an hour, my ass._ He bitterly hits it again, careful not to break the injector while leaning against the wall. The door slides up and a very pissed Lyris snatches the injector and scanner from him, turning to leave him in the doorway. _Should've strangled her earlier._ He limps forward and sees the damaged wall and sofa, groaning as he turns to the bedroom.

"Please tell me you didn't murder her." He mutters as he struggles to follow her.

Lyris instantly injects the liquid into the puffy Lek after inspecting it, making Nimus cry out as her body tenses. Macros leans tiredly against the doorframe and sees the state of his fellow student and the wall, cupping his face in one of his hands.

"Gods…Did you…You didn't, right?" He almost pleads, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable the girl.

Her head snaps to him, her grip on the scanner tightening.

"Did I what? Spit it out?" She says, turning back to finish scanning Nimus' brain.

He gestures to Nimus' thighs and hips but gives up, knowing Lyris doesn't care at the moment. He limps outside and tosses his cloak on the floor, removing his thick leather armour and putting them in a square while heading into the refresher. There's a single shower that could give a larger man a panic attack due to how tiny it is and a toilet with barely any paper. He goes to lock the door only to watch the lock drop onto the floor, even leaving a tiny hole in the door. He lowers his head and removes his plain underwear, placing them in an even pile, and puts his hilt on the bench as he steps into the shower. The water is cold and only gives uneven spurts, making him shiver softly as he washes away the sweat and blood from the past day. Soon, his skin becomes too cold and sensitive so he turns it off, reaching out to the small towel and wiping himself off with it. Preferring not to wear dirty clothes, he wraps himself with it and heads out. Dread fills him as he sees Elso sitting on the small sofa facing the bedroom, watching Lyris monitor a drowsy but awake Nimus. Judging from how casual she appears, he doubts she's noticed him yet. He raises his hand, clicking at Marcos softly.

"I leave for an hour and you manage to kill a fellow apprentice." He murmurs softly and Marcos tries to ignore his throat seizing up.

"I was…I…My master, I was healing-"

"I was joking." He whispers, turning his head sideways to look at the boy, "Besides, learn how to adopt a more stoic face. If you stutter like that in front of a powerful figure, you'll just come across as a pussy. And I do not teach pussies." He says before gesturing to the sofa across from him.

Marcos limps forward and bows to his master before sitting across from him. His hands in his lap, he looks at his master expectantly while Elso examines a datapad.

"You all need more clothes. I'll have them sent up to you." He muses, gesturing to Marcos' towel without looking up from his data. "How long have those two been at it? They're not subtle with emotions, no doubt a result of Scutus' methods."

"Two days." He answers straightly, content with the lack of stutters, "I don't know what's been happening."

"Of course not. You're male." He replies and Marcos attempts to work out if it's truth or a joke, "The temple didn't have any service workers, did they?" Marcos frowns, not knowing the term, "Ok, that answers that. Probably explains the mood swings as well. Togruta. Probably just her age hitting her." He huffs in amusement.

He sighs, placing his datapad on his lap and loudly clearing his throat. Lyris goes stiff and cranes her neck to the side. To her credit, she remains stoic but Elso knows better. He nods to a drooling Nimus.

"It's just a medium concussion. The solution will deflate the swelling and she'll be awake in the morning. Probably wise. An emerald Twi'lek is worth a small fortune here and will draw too much attention. Hutts have a thing for them. Maybe it's the Lekku. I don't know and I don't really care." He admits, resting his head on his knuckles as Lyris stands next to Markos, "We're tracking a group related to the artefact. Rumour has it a cult of fanatics, I guess you would call them, are digging up Sith and Jedi ruins. Those particularly from the conception of our modern order. The amulet you retrieved was a necklace worn by a very old Sith. Marka Ragnos."

"So they're just archaeologists with a Sith fetish." Lyris grunts and a playful smile tugs on Elso's lips.

"If only. No, they have gone to extreme lengths to get artefacts from this period. One of which including disabling a dreadnought carrying a suit of armour. We don't know or when they did it but we only just managed to relocate it…and found it empty. Everyone dead of course." He adds, as if it's merely a fact of life like bread is made from wheat, "We've managed to track a few of them here, looking to buy the item we got." He looks at Marcos, "Not even the officers know about this cult so I lied. A skill you should learn but not use with me. Now they don't know the cargo was stolen yet and the trade is tonight so you're going to go to the market place. You'll pretend you have the relic, give them a fake and then try to gain intel or better yet, capture one of them. You can't look like Sith so no lightsabers. This will teach you to use the force as your weapon. And a blaster. In fact, many blasters." He explains, gesturing to a small crate at the door.

Markus gingerly walks over to it, trying to not to feel uncomfortable as Lyris stares at his barely clothed body. On her part, she avoids looking at his scarred back but feels a level of empathy. They're old. _Must've gotten them as a child._ He opens it and sees several random blasters and one large repeater rifle. He picks it up and inspects it only to have Lyris yank it from him.

"I like this one." She admits as she walks away.

Elso rolls his eyes and Marcos grabs two pistols and a grenade. He sits back down and Elso lifts his hand. Lyris' comm flies into his hand and he twists it, revealing the circuits and beginning to type in the new coordinates. After a quick moment he tosses it to her but then collects their hilts.

"No sabers." He reminds them as he gets up. "The clothes will be here soon. Oh and try not to kill another apprentice." He warns as he looks at Lyris, who lowers her eyes in submission.

He exits the apartment and Lyris remains silent. The sound of a soft laugh rouses her and Marcos shrugs with a smile.

"He has a point."

He is met with a punch to his jaw.

Markos and Lyris march forward, Markos adopting a lazy, laid back stride as his leather coat rustles at his steel boots. He rolls his head back, watching the people strolling or shouting or drinking around him with a forced drunken smile, using the walk as an excuse to not put too much pressure on his leg. Lyris is more placid, refusing to adopt such a guise and preferring to take the bounty hunter persona. The large repeater strapped to her back, she has a sleeveless shirt one with leathered forearms and a targeting visor on her left ear. Several other bounty hunters eye them before turning back to their business with a Republic ambassador looking to remove a rival. The plaza is filled mostly with entrances to bars and adult clubs with the odd dying tree in the centre. Lyris notices Marcos tugging at his holsters as they cutting into his hips slightly. She shoulders him and he stops, returning to his drunken façade as he nods to a group of bouncers outside a club.

"What are you doing?" She hisses.

"Have you seen how these people act here?" He asks, taking a sip of a flask full of water, though knowing the sanitation of this planet, the water is probably more dangerous than the alcohol.

They enter another business plaza and this one is full of auction houses and rooms. Anything from relics, to exotic animals and even slaves are sold here. A massive, slug creature is mixed into a large line entering one of the auctions, arguing with a small group other a disease a set of slaves had. The Hutt gurgles something and the droid attempts to translate. One of them angrily blasts the droid and threatens the slug but a dozen large men grab, punch and shoot him within a minute. The disgruntled crowd quickly disperses and the Hutt lets out a deep chuckle and slithers back into the room. Marcos laughs but gives Lyris a serious shove, nodding to a man in an alley, playing with a set of cards and dropping them into a hand. He's covered in a dark cloak which hides a charred scar on his left cheek and a large reloader blaster is resting to his side. They walk, or gander, towards him. Without looking up, he leans near his reloader.

"I think your lost, hunters. I doubt anyone has put a price on me. I don't leave survivors."

His voice is deep and very husky, making it hard to work out his words. Lyris reaches into her belt and pulls out a small case, raising a brow.

"So you don't want your damn relic?"

The cards stop flowing from the top hand.

"You're not the Rodian."

"We had a minor debate over prices."

The man scoffs and chuckles, slowly dropping the cards again.

"A typical scumbag, I see." He notes.

"You got the credits?" Marcos asks in a much higher voice.

"Is the drunkard gonna be an issue?" He asks Lyris as he reshuffles the deck.

"He'll shut up once we get our money." Lyris sneers and he sighs, placing the cards in his pocket.

He picks up his weapon and heads down the alley, beckoning them to follow. They exchange silent looks before she nods at him. He shakes his head and takes the lead, forcing his smile but this time it's noticeably harder to form. The intense smell of smoke and drugs lessens but the cold becomes unbearable, with Lyris rubbing her arm softly. The man stops in front of a door and knocks seven times. The sound of dozens of locks and even a shield turning off echoes softly and the door opens.

"We have the dealers." He says and another figure exits the building.

The locks and shield immediately turn back on as the skinny, older man with greyed hair steps forward. He tosses a credit cache between them and reaches his hand forward expectantly, his mouth thinning.

"The amulet." He demands and Lyris tosses him the case.

Marcos grins and grabs the cache desperately and they turn to leave with the location only to hear the reloader activate. They crane their heads to the side to see the old man seething at them and the younger one aiming at them with a passive expression. The old man raises the opened case where the replica is.

"It's fake." He snarls before turning to the younger man, "Kill them."

He turns and enters the building again just as Lyris rips the weapon from his hands while Marcos throws him into the wall before hurling the reloader at his head. He slumps to the wall, blood trickling from the wound on the back of his head. Lyris glares at him as the sounds of an alarm rises. Marcos sighs and pulls out his small blasters, reaching out and pulling at the wall around the door to find a weaker spot. He closes his eyes and feels the structure as the world around him dies out. He locates one of the beams and yanks both arms backwards. The metal wall creaks as a beam is torn from it and used to make a large enough hole for a person. He tosses it into the street with a loud slam and steps back, jumping several metres up. He lands but is forced to roll, growling as his wound is reopened yet again. He stands on a shaking leg and sees blood leaking into his leather pants and he sighs as Lyris lands next to him. She sees the wound but he gestures forwards.

"I'll be right behind you." He pants, tearing at his coat for some material to tie the wound down.

Lyris runs forward but her feet fly out from under her. She slides backwards and Marcos raises his blaster as three men with matching robes enter the hallway of the crappy apartment. The middle one, a middle aged man with greying temples and a line of facial hair around his mouth and chin, smiles.

"This is not your concern, _Sith."_

Macros lowers his head, shaking it in disbelief, but keeps his blaster raised. The loss of blood begins to hit him though, as his arms wavers and it becomes hard to focus his eyes. Lyris tosses her gun to the side and gets ready to charge but the man holds his palm up. She gasps as she's thrown out the hole and tossed onto the street as if she's a bug. Marcos would step back if he could and merely glares at the man, keeping his weapon on them as he tries to sense around them.

"Just go home, child of darkness. We are not Jedi, so we are not your enemies."

"Tell that to her." He chuckles, still sensing the layout of the room.

It's merely a hallway leading to rooms much like the one he's currently staying in. the carpet is nice at least. A krayt dragon is munching a dewback. Clearly an import from Tatooine. There's only plumbing and pipes around them, no secret weapons or useful trick.

"She was impulsive. Now go."

"What do you want with the amulet?"

"Right." He chuckles, "You can't even read minds yet, can you? How old _are_ you?"

The figure next to him cups two of her fingers and slowly pulls it up, revealing two thick bolts of lightning. Marcos' heart clamps down and he reaches up, pulling a gas pipe down just as she fires it. Thick flames erupt in the room and Marcos smirks. A smirk that fades as the fires are sucked into a ball by the man to the left. He stumbles back while the man offers an almost grandfatherly smile.

"You really should have left."

The ball of fire is shot at him and he reaches forward, trying to deflect it. The attempt is met halfway as it erupts onto the carpet between them. The effort makes Marcos almost fall over as a small pool of red it forming. The man sighs, lowering his shoulders as he steps forward.

"You are wasting your talents. You don't have enou-"

A small ball rolls behind them and a ground shaking force explodes from it as they fly into the wall or the floor. Lyris steps into the room and kicks the concussion grenade to the side, using the bulk of the large blaster in her hands to knock the woman out before walking over to the second man. He rolls to the side and fragments of the wall snap off and slice into her skin. She hisses and jumps back while the man rises and chokes her. Marcos steps forward but the man looks at him and Marcos screams as a pressure squeezes his cut. He drops to his knee, leaning so his cut leg is to his side as he screams loudly. The man in the middle gets up and tatters at the two of them, straightening his robe.

"Such children."

Marcos growls, hissing as spittle flies from him and the man chuckles. He points his finger at the boy and Marcos doesn't have the chance to scream as the air is ripped from his lungs when he is thrown from the building. His back collides with the wall of the next building and goes straight through it as the pain becomes numb while he blacks out. Lyris watches in shock at the ease of power the man showed and tries to speak but the choke refuses to let her. The man nods to his subordinate and the pressure lessens.

"Fight me with your hands, you coward." She whispers in a husky voice.

He laughs loudly and turns to his follower.

"Move the Sister and guard and have our transport prepared with everyone on it."

The man lets Lyris go and nods to him. He picks up the woman and enters the lift as the leader smiles at Lyris. She breathes in deeply, standing straight as she begins pacing around him.

"Just make a good move, child." He chuckles.

The bait works. She rushes forward and kneels to deliver a strike to his mid section. He slides to the side, grabs her arm and pulls her into the wall. He effortlessly knocks away her defensive punch and punches her square in the jaw. He mirrors her first strike with a smirk, kneeling to blow her stomach. She feels air leave her lungs but she tries to knee his jaw. He claps both of his hands on top of her knee and forces it back down, rising to spin. Her vision blurs as dark spots cloud her eyes with the kick. He steps back and notices how dazed she already is. He lands several rough punches to her face and then grabs her throat, throwing her into the small table only to rip her up and let her go punching her again. She shakes it off and jumps to the side, trying to kick at his legs. He hops up but she rises as well, throwing a strike at his face. He grabs the fist and actually throws her over his shoulder, knocking her to the floor. She rolls around but as she tries to stand his knee collides with the side of her face where her Lek meets her horn. She gasps as her most sensitive organ is struck and her body contorts. He grabs the writhing girl's throat and pulls her onto a step, placing his foot on her throat.

His ear twitches and he turns. The lift opens and a blood soaked Marcos exits. His leg is crimson and his back has dozens of cuts lashed into it. He opens his mouth to say something but a thin trail of blood leaks out of it so he closes it again.

"You're still conscious. You're not as weak as I thought. But you're losing too much blood. I only need to hold out for another…ten minutes before you pass out forever. As for her, one strike to the throat and her neck snaps under me."

"Who…" Marcos tries but coughs out a tiny trickle of blood again.

The man doesn't reply and merely turns back to Lyris who's still trying to handle the trauma to the Lek, her eyes fluttering swiftly. He raises his foot but a small pull forms around it. it isn't enough to actually pull him off but the act makes him turn to the boy again. Marcos lowers his arm, slumping into the wall as the act of standing or keeping his eyes open becomes difficult. He does manage a seething glare though.

"Don't," He winces as his lungs begin to burn, "Don't…even think about it." He warns.

The man raises a thin brow and looks back down to her and back to him. He steps back and nods. Marcos sighs in relief and slides down to his rear, fighting to keep his eyes open. The man steps to the side but as he enters the lift, gives a soft gesture to Lyris. She hurls towards the window of the far side and Marcos crashes to his stomach, shouting as he throws his arms in front of him. She loses enough momentum so that she only crashes into the floor but the hit is hard. She gasps loudly as she gingerly clutches her arm, rolling onto her stomach in a desperate act to ease all the pain.

"Caught…you…" He wheezes in an attempt to chuckle.

Marcos spits more blood onto the floor as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the original comm. He hastily types in the sequence for Elso and continuously presses it without stopping, each time feeling his thumb get weaker. After a moment a very disgruntled Darth appears but once he sees Marcos he's look sobers.

"Trace…signal…Help…Force…users."

The comm falls out of his hand and he rolls onto his face, the darkness slowly sinking into his body.

The sound of beeping rings in his ears, enough so to rouse him from his warmth and the peaceful darkness around him. He opens his eyes and blinks several times to allow his eyes to focus in on his surroundings. It's the apartment bedroom. He lolls his side and sees a medical panel on the small bedside beside him with a tube of bacta attached to his side along with a water tube. Lyris is on the other bed next to him, in a very similar condition but has patches all over her from the cuts. He clears his dry throat and a glass of water floats in front of him. He gingerly takes it and places it to his lip. He coughs but finishes it, finally noticing Elso glaring at him. If he could sink into the bed, he would.

"What…the _fuck_ …happened?" He demands softly as though not to wake Lyris.

Marcos clears his throat and thinks his answer through carefully. Only snippets of the last day still linger, no doubt due to the intense pain in his head.

"We…did the transaction but something happened," He closes his eyes, "They recognised it was a fake, I think. They…One of them had a gun. Big. Threw him into a wall or something. Once we got in…One of them…He was a nightmare."

"Yes." Elso leans back, crossing his arms, "You were mumbling in your sleep. I tried to look into your mind but I couldn't see anything. Your concussion hindered that." He admits and Marcos frowns as his mental privacy becomes a worry, "Force sensitive? You said that on the comm."

"I did?" Marcos asks and Elso grunts, rubbing a hand through his hair,.

"We checked the apartments but it was empty. No force was detected. Are you saw you didn't just think it was?"

"He threw me through two buildings." Marcos replies and Elso sighs, nodding. "How long was I out?"

"Only two days. Which is more than enough to be out of this system. We had that cult…We had them." He hisses and the glass cracks.

Marcos, sensing the sheer hatred and frustration from his master, perks up.

"Do you have a paper and pencil?"

"WHAT?" He snaps and Lyris shifts in her sleep.

"Get me some. They all had an emblem." He explains and a grin forms on his masters face, much to his relief.

He leaves but returns just as quickly, eagerly pressing the small marker into his shaking fingers. He clears his dry throat and draws a sphere with five beams of light coming off it with two open palms at the base. The image is horrible and shaky at best, but it gets the message across. Elso examines it, not recognising it as he places it into his belt.

"At least this wasn't a complete disaster." He murmurs, "The moment you're fully recovered, we're training. You've clearly proven you can't handle other force users."

"He…threw me…through two buildings." Marcos repeats and Elso chuckles.

"I heard. Your back was cut to hell. I'll look into this symbol while you rest. Nimus is awake and practicing a concentration technique. Do not distract her." Elso says and Marcos nods.

Elso takes one last glance at the two of them and heads out.

"Lyris, I know you're awake." He calls as the door closes behind him.

Said Togruta groans and shifts to her side, staring at Marcos who shifts uneasily.

"Yes?" He asks, preparing his weak body for another fight.

"You did horribly." He opens his mouth but she continues, "But we both did. Thank you for catching me."

He leans back in relief, the prospect of living another day soothing him. He uses the force to fill up his glass with water.

"Well…couldn't have a teammate go off without a fair fight." He says, suddenly feeling anxious while she tries to decipher his words. "What happened when I was pushed?" He asks, changing topic.

"I was pummelled with an old man's fists within a single minute." She clenches her nonfractured hand, "I've never…Not that quickly." She hisses. "We need to find them."

"Elso said they're off world probably." Marcos argues, "We're too wounded anyway."

"The bacta will fix us soon enough. I say we use the emblem we have to investigate the area. To find out who their contacts were."

Nimus' hearing canal twitches as the sounds of voices hit her. She takes a moment to finish the current exercise with as much skill as she can manage. Using the force to lift her activate saber, she deflects or blocks stunning bolts shot from a spinning and swift orb with two tiny engines at the side. It races behind her and she instantly whips her saber downwards behind her and manages to reflect it at the orb and it hisses, marking off another blow and revealing how many is left. It fires several shots, zipping swiftly around to avoid the counterattacks. Nimus is very careful in blocking every strike, knowing that if she gets hit she'll have to restart with a higher pain setting. She manages to block them all but the orb is too fast to allow her to deflect a shot back at it. After several moments of trying, she shakes her head hotly and impatiently spins her saber around her, deflecting the shots in all directions until one finally manages to hit. It marks another score and it beeps, deactivating until the next stage is set. She rises to her feet and places her weapon to her new belt, the slimmer clothing being a gift from Darth Elso. It's just a grey long sleeved shirt with a dark jacket and leather pants in order to look more like the rabble that lives here.

She knocks twice on the doorframe and enters, examining them for the first time. Marcos' chest is heavily bandaged due to the cuts on his back and his leg is sticking off to the side, revealing the bacta pads coating the heavily damaged cut and burns. Lyris has similar bandages over her arms and chest with a small cast on wrist and upper forearm. They both look at her and Marcos clears his throat.

"So she didn't kill you." He jokes but she ignores his mention of her.

"You can't go out in this condition. You both have to wait."

"We don't have time. It's already been two days." Lyris counters evenly.

"I'll go and deal with the area where you were found. They've already sent troopers and Elso's investigated. Might help to have someone less obvious ask some questions."

"Do you know how much you are worth on this planet?" Lyris retorts with a snort, "You'll be captured for some Hutt in minutes."

"Agreed. We'll go together." Marcos says with a grunt as he tries to get up but his body refuses to let him get far.

"Stop." Nimus almost shouts and she chews her lip in thought. "I might have an idea how to heal you faster. Just…stay."


	7. The Hutts

A/N: I'm back. Feel free to R/R but again, no pressure. As usual, any advice or suggestions feel free. Hope you're having a great week

I hope this chapter will delve more into underworld of the Hutts and help establish what type of morals the group has with both each other and those who are just ordinary people. I do quite enjoy making them squabble though; for some cynical reason it amuses me.

This also has some explicit scenes/themes. Not full blown yet but still depicts slavery and that type of lifestyle.

I also lack an editor so please forgive the odd typo.

Have fun

No. 7: The Hutts

Nimus sighs as she fails to perform the technique for the fifth time. She removes her hand from Marcos' leg, not a single part of it healed. The best they'd gotten in the last hour was a minor numbing feeling but even that faded after a swift minute. She leans over and examines the educational holocron she always keeps on her person, one of the few things she actually bothered to keep from the temple. _How much of our stuff has been trashed?_ She ponders as she rereads the instructions for the healing technique, trying to work out where she's been going wrong so far.

Marcos attempts to exchange a disinterested look with Lyris but she appears to be napping. Although, with her, she might just be trying to gain sneaky information. Having no one else to exchange in being a test dummy, he tries to get comfortable again as Nimus examines every word and picture over again. After several minutes she hums and looks back at his thigh, placing her palms several inches above it. Marcos grows uncomfortable again as he looks at her uneasily.

"What are the odds of you ruining my leg?"

"The worst thing I could do is accidently use the force to tear it open more." She admits and he opens his mouth to resist, "Now shush. I need to concentrate."

She closes her eyes and gently uses the force to feel and understand every part of his wound. Where the bones are, the muscles around them, the chemicals within them and the nerves along them. After another few silent minutes of mediating, she tries again, attempting to coerce the body into allowing the force to heal it. The feeling of numbness comes back and Marcos, for a moment, thinks this could be it. But no healing occurs. After a few more minutes she sighs and places her hands on the sheets, annoyed with herself.

"At least the numbing improved." She murmurs, chewing her cheek.

"That was horrible."

They both turn to see Darth Elso leaning in the room. A bounty hunter's helmet in resting in his hand but he tosses it onto a sofa as he steps into the room. His eyes go from the holocron, to the apprentices and rests on Marcos' leg wound. He resists rolling his eyes as he moves to sit across from Nimus, his back to a still sleeping Lyris. He pulls the holocron into his hand and examines it closely, the holo images and words sinking into his mind before he abruptly shuts it off.

"It's a poorly written document." He explains as he cups Nimus' hands and pulls them into a triangle shape using her fingers, "Either this pose or one hand with a few fingers. If you use all your digits you'll just confuse the body and the force so nothing will happen. Now focus on the wound but this time, don't forget you're using the force to heal more than sense the injury."

He gestures to the wound and she nods anxiously, using her new pose and closing her eyes as she refocusses on the wound. The numbing returns and Marcos gives a worried look to his master who smirks and makes a stoic face, pointing to it. Marcos bites his lip and adopts a similar expression to the approval of his master. He watches for a couple of minutes and a small smile comes off Nimus only to vanish. Elso leans down to examine the cut and nods at her. A tiny amount of the interior tearing reattaches and seals but not much compared to the rest of the wound. Nimus' shoulders drop while Marcos groans.

"Not bad for a first attempt. Keep trying. Actually, don't leave this room till you finish." He smiles as her mouth gapes, "Now. I've been tracking down anyone related to the cult but no one knows anything. The symbol doesn't read from any texts we know of. No Sith relic or script has used it before." He explains as he begins to pace, "We will spend the next few days here healing and training but then we shall leave to follow another trail I'm looking into. And Lyris? Stop sleep spying." He says as he walks over to the sofa and picks up the helmet to analyse it.

Nimus turns to her only to see her huff in annoyance, clearly upset her guise failed. Her lips purse as she avoids glaring at her master.

"Do you have a fetish for sleep spying?" Marcos asks and Lyris adds a gentle amount of force to his wound, making his stiffen.

"Stop. I won't have you undo all the work I've done." Nimus snaps but even Marcos cringes softly.

"Um…Look, I love the effort but…in terms of actual healing that's been done…"

"You've barely sealed anything." Lyris growls but Elso cuts her off from another swipe.

"Enough bickering. More healing." He calls out and Nimus lowers her head.

"This is going to be a long night." She says as she resumes her fingers and her focus.

Marcos sighs again, contemplating when death could follow him.

"Nice work. You've managed to seal the interior," Elso observes, leaning over Marcos' leg in order to inspect it, "But you're still horrible with infection and whatnot. The skin has barely sealed as well. Don't run." He instructs his student, "You'll rip at it again." He instructs as he looks at the tender and very red skin around where his cut used to be, "It's a start and a good effort for your first day. Tomorrow you'll try again and give a better attempt." He orders.

Nimus nods, still feeling both tired and happy at the small victory she had managed for herself. Sliding next to him on the mattress, she almost passes out as her body struggles to support itself. Marcos slides off the bed and winces softly as he steadies himself on the weakened leg. Elso watches him with minor interest before noticing the Twi'lek is watching with tired eyes, not even bothering to gloat. Lyris considers asking her to try on her wrist but sees how tired she is and resorts to shifting on her pillows again. The movement draws Elso' attention and he rubs his hands and walks over to her wrist, cupping it softly.

"Having two test subjects isn't efficient enough, wouldn't you agree?" He asks as her arm turns numb.

The dull feelings of something shifting in her wrist makes her feel a little sick as the bones slowly realign and softly connect again. He holds her for another moment, pressing two fingers into her muscle and properly correcting it before pulling away and pulling off her cast. She cups her hand and clenches it slowly, getting used to using it again while her master rises.

"You need to work on your force skills. I have an exercise Nimus was practicing I want you to try. Same with you Marcos. It'll help you with focus under pressure while I head off. We're interrogating a Hutt but that's becoming difficult when he has ties to the Cartel," He explains, "I'll be in touch soon." He says and they bow at him before allowing him to get ready.

They sit in silence until the doors shut behind Elson ad Lyris immediately turns to them.

"We need to start our own interrogations. We need to find that DAMN OLD MAN!"

 _He was forty-five, maximum._ Marcos thinks while walking to sit on the bunk again. Lyris punches her palm and bucks a chin at them, evidently not in the mood for their usual cynical approach to her.

"We need to find him and bring him to justice."

"How?" Nimus moans sleepily, "We have no leads."

"We have a location. We have witnesses and traders. They won't speak to troopers but other traders…"

"We have nothing to trade." The Twi'lek yawns.

"No. We have the freighter. We'll use that to get somewhere. We'll use the manifold to pretend to bargain something. And then we'll ask questions."

"You're covered in cuts, he can't run and I can't move." Nimus mumbles.

"And even with the freighter, that's not enough to trade. You saw the manifold. It was pitiful amounts of spice. They were using the relic the save their finances. Face it, we have nothing to trade." He spits at Lyris.

She doesn't answer and simply nods at Nimus. He frowns in confusion, looking over the Twi'lek before several images of the auctions hit him. He groans before standing, shaking his head swiftly.

"She'll be kidnapped."

"She can handle herself. Besides, she's the only one not injured now."

"They will sell her to a Hutt."

"I'll kill the fucker."

They both turn to see Nimus rolling in the blankets, glaring with her eyes closed. She sits up and opens her foggy eyes, giving a yawn as she stretches. She looks rather placid for someone who just admitted murderous intent.

"I'm agh, I'm up for it." She says after controlling the yawns, "Just…Do I need to use the force again?"

Marcos sighs, clearly being the only one to see how short sighted this idea is. _She's gonna get sold. We'll be caught or have nothing of use in terms of information. This is just a shit idea._ He carefully rolls his back, making sure not to agitate the cuts on his back. Seeing no way out of this aside from knocking them out, he offers a reluctant nod, hating them just a tiny bit more.

"Our master will kill us."

"Not if we get something worth the trouble. Anything should be useful." Lyris says as she heads to the sofa where the bounty hunter clothes are while Marcos gives her a highly amused and snide look.

"Considering they found nothing." Nimus adds, rolling off the bed and groaning as she forces her body up.

Marcos heads into the refresher and changes, adopting a shorter jacket to replace the ruined one from earlier and bluer pants without any blood. He floods his old pants and places them next to the three other piles of clothes near the scarred wall. Lyris chuckles at the display and steps over to him, inches from his face.

"You will not need to assist me this time." She states but he smirks. "If I look like I am in danger, I will handle it. I am Sith, not a pup."

"And…what if I do?" He murmurs and they return into silence.

Lyris quickly falls into being anxious, not knowing what to do and hating that fact altogether. Her stomach tightens softly as she feels his breath on her nose and one of her Lek slides off her shoulder. It falls behind her and softly pats her rear, an act that makes her stomach tighten even more. Marcos' flushes quickly, still not used to being this close to anyone of any gender. He shuffles on his feet, feeling a certain reaction form as he notices just how even her orange lips are. And how _close_ they are.

"And…kiss."

They turn to see a sardonic looking Nimus softly clapping sarcastically as she tosses them their sabers. Marcos clears is throat awkwardly and steps back, trying to be subtle in readjusting his belt. Being subtle is not something a male can be. Both girls notice and, feeling a strange sense of pride form in her tummy, Lyris turns to smirk at Nimus. Nimus rolls her eyes and puts her hands to her hips, not taking the bait.

"So…What am I wearing?"

The other two exchange curious looks before Lyris laughs.

"I know just what a beauty like you should wear."

"I'll kill you tonight. You'll be asleep and then have my lightsaber so far up your ass…" Nimus seethes as Lyris tugs on her leash with a soft chuckle.

Her outfit composes of a leather bra with some shorts that barely cover a third of her thighs with a strap down the back linking the two. Her lekku are covered in a makeshift clothe made from the silk of a scarf found on the street while the leather collar is a belt that was cut in half. The remainder of the belt was trimmed and attached to a second one, forming a leash for Lyris to hold. This time Marcos is leading, being able to walk this time, although if shit hits the fan, he'll no doubt be left behind. He thinks so, anyway. Lyris' smirk could be seen in the core worlds as she tugs on the leash again. On several times, Nimus had tripped her or force shoved her, making the act of transporting her difficult.

The constant leers and lustful looks from the others in the streets and plazas is beginning to make Marcos uncomfortable. Even several women of various species follow the Twi'lek's form with their eyes, clearly enjoying the amount of skin revealed. Lyris is quick to glare at them darkly and most of them look away, not wanting to challenge a Togruta with a gun to her hip. The light above them flickers as they enter the plaza where the auctions are. Dozens of lines are trying to either get into the clubs or try to convince the guards they have something worth bartering. A group of troopers are guarding the entrance to the street where the cultists were, allowing Imperials to analyse it, and Marcos clears his throat.

"Which one do you want to try? We'll probably only get one shot at this." He says and Lyris nods in agreement.

A large Bothan with many rings on his left ear and eyebrow pushes through the crowd, looking Nimus over lustfully before turning to the others. He throws him thumb back to the large club behind him where crowds of people are either being thrown out or are trying to get in with some worthless junk. Most items are power convertors, the odd jewel. One person seems to be trying to convince the bouncers that a plate is worthy even to trade to a Hutt.

"Weda the Hutt is looking for a new slave girl since his last Cathar joined the rest of her litter." He chuckles, "He'll pay handsomely."

"Good. We were expecting to do business with him anyway." Lyris scoffs and places her free hand to her hip.

"Perfect!" The Bothan cries, happy to be receiving another commission, "Come this way."

The three exchange one last glance before following the Bothan as he pushes the crowds away with the help of two guards. The entrance of the place is lined with guards despite the door being quite small, making Marcos wonder how the Hutt got in last time. The moment they enter a rancid smell threatens to make them gag, with Lyris going so far as to cover her nose for a moment.

Nimus begins to feel anxious as she sees another Twi'lek, a red one, on her knees as a man sighs in ecstasy, relaxing in a secluded stall. She tries to pull back in order to breathe but he grabs her head and holds her still as he roughly thrusts into her throat, the girl's desperate gurgling and writhing vibrating his member pleasantly. Nimus looks away but on the tables around them people are smoking deathsticks casually or taking lines of stardust, their bodies rolling everywhere as they hisses and shout in raw pleasure. She lowers her head and the sense of regret and impulsiveness washes over her. The others sense it and Lyris goes to the effort of not tugging her anymore as Marcos gives her back a gentle stroke.

The building is split into multiple sections. The front area is full of tables and walled off areas for people to sit and drink or partake in their vices. The walls are lined with bars and more tables where hundreds of people are sitting and laughing. The centre is filled with people dancing to horrible dull music while the back is heavily guarded. A massive Hutt is resting on a stone slab with large cushions and mattresses supporting it. A small line of people are in front of it, offering goods for trade while a droid translates between the two parties. One of them refuses to leave after the Hutt rejects him so a large Gamorrean grabs his arm, breaking it while pulling the screaming man away. The Bothan turns to them.

"He didn't kill him. He's in a good mood." He chuckles as they head towards it.

The sight of the three metre tall slug makes Nimus stumble softly as imagines of the tomb burn into her eyes. Her lungs burn softly as she digs her nails into her palms, giving the Hutt a foul look of dread as they enter the audience area. The Bothan leaves them and whispers something to the spider-like translation droid who repeats it to the Hutt as it crawls onto its side. It's massive yellow eyes slide down to Nimus whose heart begins to pound so hard it hurts her chest. She tries to step back but another guard holds her arm. Lyris snaps her head to the man but he doesn't budge, clearly not impressed by the Togruta. Marcos doesn't turn his head but mentally readies his saber that's hidden in his boot.

"The Lord Weda admires the slave very much." The spider droid expresses, crawling down from the Hutt's shoulder to rest at its tail, "He is willing to pay very well for such a jewel."

The Hutt groans and lets out a deep set of noises that can possibly be seen as a language. Several guards shift and someone is thrown to the floor in front of them. A young Zeltron, no older than Nimus if not younger, looks up at them with wide purple eyes and immediately tries to crawl back. A guard shouts something and presses a shock baton to her shoulder, making her scream and collapse again. Her skin a deep red with short, dark hair that's revealed to be purple in a bright enough light. Aside from the steel collar around her neck, there is a small device at the front, beeping every few moments as she clutches her barely clothed body. Marcos manages a stoic expression that could mirror Elso while Lyris just stares at the poor girl. Nimus feels her shoulders and head drop at the prospect of being this girl and looks at the two apprentices in front of her. _They won't leave me…Not to this thing…_ She looks around desperately, her throat becoming painfully dry as the guard tightens their grip on her arm.

"Or a trade would be to your taste?" The droid suggests, "My lord does not enjoy Zeltrons or their colour. Their mind altering abilities also frustrate the master. She is the result of a trader lying about her species during the trade. She is untouched." The Hutt bellows something, his eyes never leaving Nimus, "My lord trusts that the Twi'lek is pure as well?"

"Of course." Lyris confirms but Marcos suddenly steps in front of her, smiling bitterly as he nods to the Hutt.

"But keep the girl. We're simple businessmen. Businessmen who have been wronged by a group and, as such a noble trader," The Hutt nods, stroking his bulging stomach as he listens to the droid, "you might be able to help us?"

Lyris' desire to strike him rises the flames of sun as she holds the leash tightly, teeth gritting. The Hutt finally looks away from a terrified Nimus and eyes Marcos over, nodding at him.

"We had a ship full of cargo that was meant to be traded. When the trade was meant to happen, they merely stole our stock of spice."

The Hutt growls something before gesturing to a topless woman. Using both arms to carry a huge goblet, she hisses as she reaches up and gives him the wine before being thrown to the ground as his fat tail whips her for his amusement.

"Why would the lord care about a mere trade dispute that has nothing to do with him?" The droid asks and Marcos points to Nimus.

"We offer you the slave in exchange for information relating to this cult." He says, holding up a large clothe with the emblem drawn into it.

The Hutt narrows his eyes, looking over the emblem before massaging his tummy again while drinking. After a moment of trying to remember anything he turns to his droid and begins mumbling loudly.

"The apartments across from this club was filled with several of these men. They paid their tolls and abided by the laws of the Hutts without anything suspicious in their nature. In fact, they seemed to avoid everyone, including the traders or dealers."

"Did you get a name? A location? Anything that could reveal where we could find them?"

The Hutt strokes his fat again and then allows his droid to translate his next few thoughts.

"No. They chose to be anonymous like many of the patrons here. It's normal. They were seen leaving in a TL-003 class shuttle from the core worlds."

The Hutt growls and looks back at Nimus who glares back. The guard yanks the leash out from Lyris' hand and pushes Nimus towards the Hutt before grabbing the Zeltron with his free hand. Marcos steps back and leans into Lyris' side, casually looking around as Nimus is pushed closer to the Hutt as it licks its lips.

"I think that was enough information. We got the ship they left in and where it was made."

"We lack a direction or location." Lyris counters but even she grows uncomfortable as Nimus is pushed against the fat of the slug's chest. "Fine. We will go to the nearest hangars and investigate there." She says, pulling out two sabers from her cleavage.

"Um…What?" He asks, nodding to the where they floated out of.

"Oh not now." She huffs as she pushes several of the guards into the wall and tosses the second hilt at Nimus.

The Twi'lek squirms as she hisses and almost sobs while trying to avoid a tongue reaching her cheek, every nightmare and horror from her earlier life repeating again. She thrashes desperately, kicking and clawing at it but the thick skin makes the Hutt chuckle as if this is a game. Her head tenses and she turns around, catching the weapon and instantly slicing into the Hutt's throat with a feral shriek. The Hutt stiffens and screams desperately as it tries to push her off with its weak arms but she slashes and impales it over and over again until it stops moving. Marcos reaches above the ceiling and yanks it down, collapsing on the mercenaries around them. Dozens of bolts go flying as the patrons start firing in confusion, believing this to be some trap on the Hutt's behalf. The groups crowd around their own, shooting at anyone they don't know or don't like. Marcos deflects several of the shots and ducks, running and tackling someone to the ground and then leaning down with his lightsaber, impaling him. He gets back up and spins his weapon several times, wounding men with their own shots as he clutches his leg, matching sure the patch is still stable. He quickly steps behind an overturned table, watching the madness as everyone tries to kill each other over no known reason.

Lyris elbows another man in her path, pushing him down and thrusting has saber through his chest before tossing him aside. She wipes away some sweat and laughs at Marcos who gives her a rude hand gesture. She steps back, narrowly avoiding a blast, and pushes the women through a stall. She storms forward as she meets up with Marcos and sees a blood soaked Nimus savagely slashing at the guards. _How often do you get in these situations?_ She shakes her head as she chokes another mercenary and throws him through the glass at the front. Marcos chuckles at her while he deactivates his weapon, walking out into the crowds of screaming people outside and pushing some away.

"What?" She grunts, deactivating her own lightsaber.

"Well…We weren't exactly subtle. Our master's gonna hear about this."

"To be honest, I'm more concerned about the locals." She murmurs as several bounty hunters land in front of them, deactivating their boosters.

One of them raises a large rifle at them and gesture to the lightsaber hilts.

"Hand them over. You've broken the laws of the Cartel." The ringleader commands.

The detonators on their belts start beeping several times and they look at them in confusion before they hastily reach down and try to cup them. Lyris and Marcos form a wall between them and manage to contain the blasts away from them as someone whistles next to them. Lyris wipes some green blood off her chin and inspects it before rubbing it on her shoe. Marcos steps back, feeling uncomfortable at the amount of blood on her skin and how casual she is about it. She nods to the burning piles of ash around them.

"Need to learn to focus on the finer aspects of the world." She says, bobbing her head softly.

Marcos opens his mouth to retort but notices the Zeltron behind her, head lowered in submission and arms by her side. He grimaces and then tilts his head to the Twi'lek.

"Nimus, we can't keep-"

"She has information about which hangar the cultists were using." She explains and waves her hand.

Within a second, the Zeltron is at her side, staring at the ground. Lyris rolls her eyes, scratching the back of her head while Marcos turning to the girl.

"What do you have?" He asks her and Nimus gives her an encouraging budge.

"Ze…Ze cult men vere heading to ve third hangar in ve…Ulm district. Vey…ah…traded with ve Hutt. Vey needed…How do you say…Star map." She says, her thick nature accent making it hard to understand.

"A star map to what?" Marcos continues.

"Ah…Somevere ve Jedi vere. Ah, a…temple. Vey had gone to Hutts because vey had dealt with ve Jedi in past." She explains and Marcos nods, turning away.

"Ok, let's go. Nimus, leave the pet." Lyris says as they begin walking to the Ulm district.

"We can't just abandon her."

"She's not our mission. We are losing time. She will just hold us back. She's a slave, not a Sith." She says and Nimus stiffens at the last part.

Marcos, sensing the rising emotions, steps back and places his hands out in a passive manner.

"We don't have time for this. We'll take the girl for now and after we deal with the hanger we'll decide what to do. We can't now." Marcos says but Lyris don't budge, "Lyris. _Please."_

She turns to look at him and sighs, walking past him but slams her shoulder in his. He winces and rubs it as he follows her, used to this display. Nimus' deep breathing stops but she still barely manages to stop her hands from force choking the bitch. She gives the Zeltron a forced smile before nodding forwards and leading her on.

The Ulm district is a mostly craft and construction area. Thousands of crates of goods and materials are loaded onto vehicles that are taken to the large hangar in the centre of the district. The massive square building probably takes us a third of the overall district. It's extremely busy too as large freight vessels and other transports land one minute and take off the next. The security seems to be strong as well. Hundreds of gangs, all wearing different Hutt emblems, make themselves known by harassing the locals or threatening those who walk past them on the street.

The group manages to enter the foyer of the hangars, arguably the most guarded place they've seen thus far. Instead of a nicely furnished reception area like most worlds, this one is covered in rusted steel planks or oil marks. The seats are torn or burnt and the data desks are barely operational along with the lights. As soon as they enter a group of mercs strides up to them, eyeing up Nimus and the Zeltron.

"My, my, my. Must be my lucky day." A heavily scarred human laughs, "How can I help such a lucky man?" He winks at Marcos.

"Well, I was hoping for some information." He smirks at the man, "In exchange for some…luxuries of course."

The man smiles lustfully and the others chuckle, understanding the hint. Lyris tightens her lips while Nimus begins looking the place over, seeing what advantages or disadvantages they had. He nods at Marcos, licking his lips at Lyris who remains impassive despite wanting to murder her fellow apprentice.

"What can I help you with?"

"Did some cloaked men pass through here? With this symbol?" He asks, showing him the logo.

The man chews his lip, nodding.

"Aye. Saw some guys like that. About a dozen of them. Paid a lot, too. Came out…hangar deck 12. Left last day, actually. In a rush, too."

"Thank you for your assistance," He says, stepping forward as the mercs' weapons collide with their faces with enough force to break bone, "Much appreciated."

As soon as the bodies drop dozens of blasters are raised at them. Nimus lowers her head, seeing all her potential planning getting thrown away by Marcos yet again. They raise their hands and Lyris leans into his ear.

"Whatever happened to _subtle?"_ She scoffs softly as Marcos swallows.

The Zeltron's body locks up and she tries to stumble backwards in fear but Nimus softly grabs her hand, gently yanking her forward again. Lyris looks to the side where the nearest lift is and shares a look with Marcos.

"Remember the ship tactic?" She whispers but he shakes his head, watching as the man in charge marches forward.

"Ceiling's too high. Won't be able to use it as a shield in time." Then he looks at the plates on the ground, "Never mind. Nimus." He says softly, nodding to the panels.

Lyris slowly pours some force into her palms, concentrating as she tries to let it flood into her hands as Marcos and Nimus focus on grabbing as many boards with the force as they can. With a shriek, the Togruta throws her hands forward. The wave of the force that's sent forward knocks the dozens of troops onto their backs as she runs back. The others rip up the floor and use the steel to form a shield around them as they hastily run backwards. The Zeltron swiftly sprints after Lyris, entering the elevator second. The blasts begin to melt the shield far faster than anticipated and Marcos nods at the elevator to Nimus. She lets go and runs back before he screams and shoots the molten panels in all directions, covering his escape as Lyris jams the door shut. Panting, Marcos leans on his knees and whistles before letting out a tired chuckle.

"Now _that_ was subtle."

"We're probably wanted now." Lyris spits.

"By the Hutts? What a shame." Nimus spits, "At least some of us have some moral groundings."

"And what's that meant to imply?" Lyris snaps and Marcos shakes his head, becoming aware of how small this capsule is.

"We don't have ti-"

"I think you're just in this to prove how powerful you are. You don't care about the Sith cause." Nims accuses.

"What a revelation." Lyris deadpans, "You're just here to prove you're not a typical Twi'lek slut."

"Oh the irony." Nimus laughs spitefully, "I'm not the one throwing my Lekku around Marcos in some weird…animalistic…mating ritual!"

"Please." Marcos begs painfully, "Don't drag me into this."

"So that's what this is about." Lyris says, ignoring him, "You want attention, you little insecure-"

"Vey've cut pover to ve lift."

They all turn to the Zeltron who simply points to the blinking icon on the panel. It's not moving at all. Macros hisses as he rips at his hair as the girls return to arguing. Marcos pushes past them as he turns to the Zeltron.

"Floor 11. Just one floor. They'll be stairs." He says as he begins cutting open the door.

The others step back but Nimus pauses, sensing something. Closing her eyes, she hears thick thudding and hushed voices. Eyes snapping open, she reaches out and shakes Marcos.

"There're too many out there. They'll shoot us on the spot like…Togruta in a barrel."

"Excus-"

"Where do we go then?" Marcos exclaims.

She simply points a finger to the ceiling. He nods and activates his lightsaber, waiting for the others to move into the corners of the lift before he cuts a perfectly neat circle into the roof. The circular piece falls to the ground with a loud smack and Marcos carefully leaps upwards, avoiding the molten sides of the burn. He steadies himself on the unstable surface and steps aside to left Lyris and then Nimus up with them. The latter carefully lifts the Zeltron with the force and plops her next to them as Lyris looks at the door one level above them. Marcos does the same and scratches his chin.

"They'll soon realise we're not on the same level anymore. They'll have cameras and sensors."

"And your suggestion?" She grunts.

"Prepare for when they reach us?" Nimus says as if it's simple, making Lyris want to hurt her, "Stand by the staircase, let them rush past you and then attack them from behind. Slash them down."

Lyris opens her mouth to criticise her but Marcos stares at her. Seeing another argument that she's outnumbered with, she sighs and reaches up, forcing the elevator doors open. She steps back and leaps onto the next floor, quickly heading toward towards the staircase. The sounds of swift feet make her frown as several mercs shout while exiting the stairs, calling for their leader and backup. She chuckles, running forward at the first man.

Hand on his throat, she grabs his arm and yanks him in front of her, shielding herself form the bolts of his friends. He shouts in agony but she ignores it as she throws him at a smaller girl. With a kneel, she impales the girl into the wall before softly spinning on her heel and directly her blade upwards to decapitate the man behind her. She continues towards the staircase as the remaining three men shout into their comms, one of the screaming desperately as he sprints forwards with a vibro baton. She reaches down and grabs the body of the girl, pulling her by the collar so her head is struck the with weapon. She drops the girl and slashes off his foot and steps forward as he screams and falls, twisting her saber backwards and impaling his back. She smiles at the two last men before another rush of feet makes her pause. A large group of mercs in armour and holding stronger weaponry with faster rates of fire or stronger bolt levels surround the survivors, all weapons trained on her.

Suddenly, several of the blasters are ripped from their hands and aimed at them. Their screams fill the hallway as Lyris steps forward, using the chaos to her advantage. She reaches forward and throws the nearest man over her shoulder, where Marcos slides down while his saber raised, slicing the man in half whilst in the air. He jumps in the air and throws two of them violently into the wall while Lyris rams one into a wall, smashing her horns into his head while savagely elbowing another's nose. She turns around and grabs the girl by the back of her hair as she knees, throwing her face into her knee as she feels the merc go lax. She lets her go and slashes her weapon to the side as Marcos throws another target at her.

Panting, they both nod at each other while Marcos pats his leg. He winces, feeling the tenderness turn to minor pain. _Nimus is going to murder me._ He looks back and sees said Twi'lek casually walking forward, dried Hutt blood and all, as her new friend closes her eyes, clearly not used to the violence. Lyris silently heads towards the staircase and the rest follow, not bothering to say anything unimportant. After a few moments of walking, they exit the stairs and head down another dark corridor with stained blue steel walls. The rank smell of rot makes them all heave as they head into the hangar doors. The air outside isn't that much better, as the revolting smell of spices and blood and other horrible things enter their noses.

The hangar bay is mostly empty with two small transports at the far end, both with the same logo on their crab-like vessels. A dozen or so guards look around tensely, holding their blasters close to their chests as if something's been happening. To be fair, something has been happening. It's just that their comms were cut off midway through the distress report was finished. The man at the front, a large Quarren with a missing tendril looks up. He pauses only to snarl, the squid being raising a blaster the moment a blood soaked Twi'lek comes out. Lyris scoffs.

"We just killed dozens of men in ten minutes. You aren't a threat." She laughs as Nimus and Marcos observe their surroundings.

The men exchange looks, half full of hate but the other half express terror. Their floor manager looks at this and seems to count those in favour of fighting or surviving. The latter wins. He lowers his blaster and nods to the exit as the men slowly get ready to leave, ignoring the cold ait around them as they refuse to run. Just as the Quarren gets ready to leave, Marcos stops him.

"A ship with men using this symbol landed. It was a TL-003 class shuttle, manufactured in the core worlds. What do you know? Where were they from or heading?" He inquires but the man shakes his head.

"I don't-"

"Liar." Lyris snaps, beginning to choke him as the Quarren's feet lift off the ground, "You must keep records, logs. Hell, even a casual conversation with one of them. What do you know?"

The man gasps and writhes in the air and Lyris lets him go, only to stomp on his ankle as he falls. His screams flood the city as tears form in his eyes and tendrils, his body stiff with agony. Marcos' mouth gapes and he pushes her back. She growls at him, stepping forward again as the man cups his broken leg.

"What the fuck?" Marcos hisses softly.

"We need that information. If you don't like torture, join the Republic. At least they _hide_ the fact they do it."

"And if he really doesn't know anything?" Marcos asks but Lyris shakes her head in disbelief.

"Why are you even here? You are such…such a shit Sith. You whine and have moral issues every five seconds." Marcos chews his lip, shaking his head as he feels his stomach heat up, "Why you were picked by the recruiters still amazes me. You're talented with the force but can barely fight or know anything technical. The moment something grim happens you shut down. Why don't you just join the damn Jedi?"

"Maybe I should! At least they didn't kidnap me and kill everyone I ever knew in front of me!" He screams, shoving her rough as he grabs his lightsaber.

Lyris falls to her rear as the shock of the movement caught her off guard. But the sound of a lightsaber makes her refocus instantly as she looks up, seeing Marcos staring at her with a dead expression. Nimus steps forward, holding her hands out as she slowly places some force around the hilt of Marcos' weapon without him knowing.

"We should cool off. They're going to have more men soon." She says but no one bothers listening.

Marcos feels the urge to slice her throat caress him like a lover, warming him in the cold wind as he watches her give him an expression he's never seen her offer: _fear._ He drinks it in, closing his eyes with a blissful sigh as he leeches off her dread. Images of her head rolling, or her screaming as he lashes at her back, or her writhing as he chokes her makes him stiffen in desire. For a single moment, he genuinely wants to kill her for bringing that memory back. For her revealing that aspect of him. He honestly doesn't want to be Sith or even here at all. The only reason he was accepted and taken was he potential and the fact he tried to kill the recruiter after he slaughtered the traders. That had impressed him enough to grab the boy and have him shipped to Korriban. Impressed him enough to get the boy thrown in a situation like this. The Sith respected one thing and that was power, regardless of the mind behind it. if the mind could be moulded, even better.

He deactivates his weapon and steps back as the others watch him closely, the Zeltron in particular looking scared. She tugs at her collar as she looks behind her, thinking of a way to get out of this before the human potentially guts them. She turns to the panting Quarren as he tries to crawl away and looks back to see Nimus staring at her, stepping forward while looking at the girl curiously.

"You…" Marcos pants, shaking his head, "Don't you ever mention this again." He whispers and Lyris nods slowly, mouth gaping softly but also subconsciously rubbing her thighs.

He steps back yet again, not trusting himself to be so close to her without harming or killing her. He turns his head to the side, closing his eyes as he desperately tries to control his emotions and rage. After a moment of deep breathing, he opens them again to see the Zeltron standing over the Quarren beside Nimus, her collar in the Twi'lek's hands. He feels hot again, frustrated by the fact the slave is even here, but as he steps towards the Zeltron he loses air. The desire to harm them is replaced by a mix of peace but also lust. He stumbles, closing his eyes and blinking rapidly as he leans on a rail for support. Lyris feels it too, staring at the girls with dilated pupils as her Lekku throb softly. The Quarren's pained movements stop and it focusses on the dark red skinned girl, looking over her revealed skin passionately.

"Zere…Zere vas vis ship from?" She asks nervously, Nimus smiling softly at her in support.

The alien man looks conflicted, staring at the ground hotly before he rolls on his back again, staring deep into the purple eyes of the girl. Losing his sense of guilt or regret, he replies.

"A cold moon. One of them mentioned a cold moon with crystals. They gave no logs or anything. They paid us to ignore where they were from. That's all I know." He pants, his tendrils writhing softly as he even tries to crawl towards the Zeltron.

The urge to shag her slowly feels Marcos and he blinks several times again, massaging his temples. The Quarren snaps out of it quickly too, frothing and hissing as he realises what just happened. He tries to swipe his clawed fingers at her ankles but Nimus casually throws him towards the entrance, knocking him out.

"What," A panting Lyris asks, "What was that?"

"She's a Zeltron. They're pheromones help alter people's feelings. That and the…" Nimus stops, suddenly becoming very interested in her nails.

"And the what?" Marcos snarls.

"And the minor…telepathy the…force naturally gives them…even if they're not overly force sensitive." She answers meekly.

"A fucking mind reader. That's what the collar was!" Lyris snaps, getting up while the scared Zeltron backs away.

"An empath. Only emotions and impulses."

"We're not keeping her." Marcos reaffirms but Nimus yawns, ignoring him as she looks at the sky.

"Nice evening. So, how many ice planets have crystals?"

"Nimu-"

"DON'T MOVE!"

They all turn to see a large group of men with weapons charging towards them. They sigh and draw their weapons only to see a group of them setting something up in two areas. Several boxes latch together and pieces of metal shift or expand. Barrels and joints and large limbs are formed as two mechanical sentries are activated. The orange plates are heavily scarred, implying their age as the thick arms that end in cannons are aimed at them. Two slots for missiles rise of out their shoulders and the group begin revaluating their options.

"The freighters?" Nimus suggests and they all nod, racing towards the nearest of the two ships.

The sentries creak as the men around them tap at the old controls, hissing in impatience as the old weapons target the four runaways. Marcos turns around and hurls several crates at the men and the sentries only to watch a blue shield knock them away from the machines. Marcos closes his eyes in frustration as he continues running. Feeling something off, he turns again and out of instinct throws several more objects. Four missiles collide with the debris and the front third of the hangar deck is charred with thick flames and smoke. The four railguns hiss as the bolts fly at them and Nimus grabs one of the cargo crates and has it hover in the line of fire. The shield is ruined in seconds. Marcos spins around again and places his palms next to each other and throws out a pulse of the force. A large number of the men go flying but the machines do nothing.

"Aim for the damn controls!" Nimus shouts as she slides into tiny cockpit.

The cockpit barely has enough room for two people. Lyris sits next to her, slamming the door shut as the Zeltron slides behind them, squeezed between two supply caches. The Twi'lek starts pressing several buttons, soon finding the activation procedure and allowing the ship to power up. Marcos squints and sees the sentries loading more missiles.

"Fuck." He mutters.

Reaching forward, he clutches the body of one of the men inside the shield who is directly the men how to operate the machine. He forces him to pull out his blaster and aims it at the control panel, making his fire several times into it. The controls erupt into sparks and smoke as the machine hisses and spins, firing in any direction without cause or bias. The buildings around them are hit with missile and thick blast bolts as the Marcos runs forward without a single care about his leg. He feels his body get thrown to the side as his vision blurs. The urge to move or worry about anything temporarily fades as he blinks lazily, trying to figure out what's happening. He shakes his aching head to that he's on his belly, his hands under a sheet of steel. He eyes widen as the pain tears through his body as he realises where he is. He screams as he tries and fails to pull his burning fingers out. He closes his eyes and pants loudly before forcing it off. The act alone almost makes his blackout again as the pain in his fingers reach an all time high. He feels his body move, however, as it rises and gets placed on his feet again. Lyris lowers her hand and resumes shouting at the deafened boy. He nods dazedly, limping towards the ship and softly jumping into the cargo bay, hissing as he feels his wound threaten to reopen. He clutches his broken hands to his chest, shivering at the pain.

Nimus squirms nervously as she veers the ship downwards, trying to give them some distance from the missiles. Marcos clenches his eyes, leaning onto a bar for support as he tries to hold back the vomit. Several moments later the ship stabilises and he breathes a sigh of relief, crawling over the Zeltron to squat between his fellow apprentices.

"We're so fucked." He says as he cups his face, wincing at the pain in his fingers as they shake uncontrollably.

"Marcos." Lyris warns.

"The fucking Hutts…We just destroyed a landing pad. We killed one fucker earlier. How man mercenaries did we just-"

"Enough." The Togruta hisses as Nimus focuses on getting them to the Imperial Quarter. "We will be fine as long as you calm and stop being a bitch."

"Oh, we are beyond that being useful." He laughs, "Darth Elso's gonna fin-"

"Marcos." Nimus says softly. "Shut up."

The small freighter lands on the strip relatively well, despite Nimus almost crashing into a small troop carrier two. The group exits the ship, the Zeltron staying close to Nimus, to see a grave looking Darth Elso with the officer from before. Marcos shoots a glare at Lyris before straightening himself and putting on a stoic face, hiding his injuries. _I can manage that much._ Their master doesn't bide his words as they walk up to him.

"What the hell is happening? I leave to interrogate Hutt and one of the suppliers for the Cartel has been killed. The crime scene has descended to a mass, multi ganged shoot out. And now a hangar has been annihilated with four industrial towers heavily damaged as well? What type of spice did you sniff?" He asks hotly.

They all exchange looks but Lyris goes first.

"I…I suggested we find a possible trail ourselves." She says evenly.

His face grows cold as he steps forward, staring down at the tall girl.

"And _why_ would you do that?"

She clears her throat, picking her words very carefully.

"I…do not like defeat. I wanted to find the man myself."

"Revenge is a powerful thing," Her master admits as he scratches his jaw, walking around her, "but it should never threaten the mission." He hisses into her ear before turning to Nimus and Marcos, "The Hutts are demanding a ridiculous fee in exchange for us continuing to be the city. Until we pay up, the gangs can pick us off. Not that we're worried but it can be somewhat _irksome_!" He shouts and the officer steps forward.

"This action would and _should_ ," He eyes Elso, "warrant a court hearing. You have disrupted military duties here beyond belief in the time of a single day. You should be prou-"

His final jab at Elso is cut off by the Sith grabbing his throat, digging his fingers into the flesh and allowing himself to draw blood.

"I won't be mocked. Disciplining my students in one thing, but I'm a whole different story." He says softly before throwing the man down, "I hope your little… _dalliance_ was worth it."

Marcos steps forward, seeing a small opportunity to add some positive to this disaster.

"Actually, we did." Elso gruffly crosses his arms, nodding to him impatiently, "We know where their ship may have come from and we know what class the vessel is. A TL-003 class shuttle, the ones you get from the core worlds. They came from an ice system that has special or important crystals on it."

The last part catches their master's interest but he quickly returns to a neutral expression.

"And where did you get this information?"

Marcos looks down, still not feeling happy about this aspect of the story.

"There was a dock worker. The..." he winces, "Zeltron slave used her…scent…ability on a dock worker who was there when they landed. He overheard them mention those details."

Elso stares at him but Marcos eyes the ground, not wanting to see the coldness in his master's gaze. He then feels a hand on his shoulder that squeezes it before sliding off. Elso moves towards the Zeltron who tries to shrink behind Nimus. He eyes her up and down before turning to Nimus.

"Be careful with those ones. Even if you're force trained, they can be very…hard to say no to. Evident in how you got the information." He smirks softly before whispering to her, "Also, consider sharing. Might solve the issue I think Lyris has." He leans back and winks, "Aside from that, she's yours."

"My master, I doubt a slave could be of any use." Marcos says carefully but Elso shrugs.

"I'll discuss in private why I think you're wrong. And no, that wasn't a threat. You've managed to pull something we haven't yet, even if the methods could start a war. The system is Ilum. It's a Jedi holy land in the…Republic zone. Guess we're about to have some wartime fun." He laughs as he leads them over to a private pad.

A medium sized ship is resting in front of them, covered in black and silver and grey. The two wings beside it form a semicircle shape with the bulk of the vessel being the square in the middle. The wings appear to be able to slide up and down, no doubt revealing the weapons array folded inside. A third semicircle is at the top but is much shorter, only going halfway up the hull. The engines aren't overly large but given the size of the ship, it doesn't need to be. The front of the ship reveals a tinted dome where the cockpit no doubt rests.

" _The Intangible."_ Elso smiles, clapping his hands together, "Had her…five years now. Originally was meant to have a standard imperial vessel but you can't exactly do stealth when you have emblems everywhere on a known enemy ship class." He explains, "Break her and you die." He says, the smile never leaving him. 


	8. The Intangible

A/N: I'm back. Hope you're having a great week

This week I would really appreciate a review or even PM because of the content covered in this chapter. It's the first one to be sexually graphic and I'm genuinely interested in what you think about it or anything else like the story or characters so far. So some critique for this chapter would mean a lot.

This is another character building chapter with some aspects of the plot being revealed to move things along. I want to explore how the characters feel about each other, egos aside, and how their differing views and personalities can coincide or clash.

This also hints as to why the Zeltron is important for the next stage of the story, as her species has major advantages even against those with the force.

As usual, I also lack an editor so please forgive the odd typo.

Have fun

No. 8: The Intangible

The group enters the ship at an even pace, Darth Elso rubbing his hands together as he gestures to the rooms. The interior is a smooth black with blue lights lining to the edges of the walls at the top and bottom. The floor must be regularly polished due to the perfect state of the metal, allowing a reflection of them as they move. The corridors are wide enough for the group to move easily, clearly indicating how big this ship must actually be. Marcos swallows but winces, noticing a dry throat as he tries to control himself. He trails at the back, grimacing softly as the realisation of him soon flying hits him. He sighs deeply and marches on, remaining stoic as per instruction as he tries to mask his feelings. The other two apprentices, and even the empathic Zeltron to an extent, notice immediately but don't look at him. Darth Elso might not like the revelation that his new apprentice has yet another deficiency. Due to his recent actions towards them, they are reluctant to put him in that position. At least, not this soon.

Nimus has the opposite opinion, relishing at the prospect of being in more flights and possibly understanding how it works. She even takes the chance to examine the skinny, long lights and tries to understand how much they drain off the power supplies. She takes note of the size, the design; everything that she can get her eyes to see probably. Lyris has a much more passive opinion, not really seeing the majesty of space flight but not hating it either. And after the recent days and the events that have happened to her, she's not exactly in the best or most expressive mood. The Zeltron has her head seemingly stuck towards looking at the ground, keeping close to Nimus and not making a sound. Being around a group of Sith isn't exactly the most pleasant or calming experience for something so young to have.

Darth Elso casually throws his arm to the first room after they entered the ship.

"The cargo hold. Everything from study materials to parts to power cells will be held here. It's big enough for a decent amount but just remember not to hoard."

The large room is mostly empty except for a few massive power cells, a wall covered in dozens of holocrons, a box full of spare parts and a crate. Elso silently walks through the room and reaches to grab one of the holocrons before leading them out again. Marcos waits for the rest of them to move on before entering the room. He looks around at the large space and breathes in deeply, enjoying the vast space compared to the tight nature of the rest. _Maybe this would be a better place to sleep_ he ponders before turning back and walking back to the others, wincing as his broken fingers twitch in anxiety. _Nimus better be free tonight._

He quickly returns to see them in a smaller room with three bunks next to each other and a large tank of blue liquid above them. A few monitors are placed here and there with a cabinet full of chemicals and other medical supplies is towards the back wall. Marcos looks at the station and then to his fingers in desperation.

"Knowing you three, this place will become a second bedroom." He snorts, "It has a decent amount of supplies but if one of you catches a bizarre disease it may just be easier to toss you out the airlock." He admits and that catches Lyris' attention as she tries to discover how serious the comment is.

They move through the hallway again till he opens another door and leads them into a bigger area. A long table with eight leather chairs bolted to the floor. The table has a large communicator in the centre and the walls are lined with monitors and other deactivated screens. Lyris quickly sits down and even spins as Elso frowns, using the force to make her stop.

"You annoy me." He says simply, "This is the briefing room. We will receive information regarding missions from the Admiralty Board or the Dark Council. When in session, remember to hold you tongue and not be an idiot." He murmurs before leading them off.

"Some run the risk more than others." Lyris chuckles to herself, more in genuine humour than malice.

"If I could physically slap you, I would." Marcos grunts but a shadow of small smile forms.

The next set of rooms are a training room, a tiny one person brig, a small shower and restroom, a kitchen and attached sitting area, small armoury with a set of grenades, blasters and knives and the cockpit. The area is larger than most ships this side but the size of the armoury possibly makes up for it. The dome is fitted with four seats, one of them higher than the rest, with the controls on a slab in the middle. Two seats are behind the front two and a bit more to the side so they can reach the side panels and controls. Behind them is a large map of the sector, complete with Imperial annotations regarding the planet and important information about it. Their master gestures to it lazily.

"No one touches it but me aside from if I say so. I don't want to wake up in the middle of an asteroid field considering none of you know how to fly yet." He warns and the three of them nod, the Zeltron too frozen in motion to move.

He leads them off while Nimus looks over every detail of the controls, leaning over almost comically in an attempt to see what the buttons and switches look like. Lyris clears her throat loudly and she quickly scuttles back to the group. Towards the end of the hallway there are four doors and their master points to one.

"Macros," He points to another, "Lyris and Nimus," He points to another, "And…Ah…What's your name?"

The Zeltron freezes as everyone turns to look at her for the first time since the hangar. Her mouth opens and closes as she steps back. Elso rolls his head back, groaning.

"It's not that hard, girl. Nimus, poke her into the room or whatever. These are your quarters. I trust you not to sneak into each other's rooms?" He offers them a stern look before snorting, "I don't care. Just don't develop teenage grudges or babies. They annoy me." He offers Lyris a look as he opens a room.

The Togruta frowns in confusion, having no idea how swinging on a chair can annoy him so much. The quarters are rather simple but better than the temple room. Two bunks with thick mattresses and sheets are lined against the back wall wilt a closet is built into a wall. A small table in the corner holds a tiny lamp and a set of shelves are next to the door. They notice that their belongings from the hotel have already been put here but rather effortlessly, as seen in the mess. Marcos looks at it and then turns to look at his own room in horror. Lyris turns to her master.

"Can one of us just use the spare room?" She asks but he scoffs.

"The spare room was originally used for my droid but…Well, droids are Jedi proof. The room still has all the charging ports and scrap pieces that I used for him. We'll move the pieces later." He suggests.

"Then why can't Nimus bunk with…whatever the Zeltron is?"

"Because you two are going to learn to play nice and I don't trust Nimus to not offer private Imperial information to her new… _friend._ "

Nimus opens her mouth to defend her secrecy skills when Elso turns around and narrows his eyes. Marcos is already in his room, trying to quietly move his clothes into neat piles and making sure the furniture of his small room is perfectly aligned and set. He even flickers the lights of his lamp to make sure it's operational along with everything else. The fact his hands and fingers are broken mean nothing to him as he ignores the excruciating pain as he relieves his anxiety. He pauses, feeling something more than eyes lingering into his mind. He closes his eyes and thinks of dozens of random things as he turns around.

"Master." He says with a lowered head.

"That tactic won't work on masters. Though, it does give us headaches." He admits, rubbing his temple, "I'll teach you a much more useful method of keeping people out of that manic and compulsive mind of yours."

Marcos' stomach tightens as Elso lets the fact slip that he knows and he looks away, not wanting to meet his scrutinising look. His master eyes his shaking hands and turns to Nimus, handing her the healing holocron he just took out.

"Practice on his hands and fingers," He turns to Lyris, "Have her instruct you in the basics as well. You," He looks at the still unnamed Zeltron, "Do whatever she says."

Marcos sighs silently and Elso notices his strained feelings. He gestures for the female students to head into their rooms before bucking his head up at Marcos. His student lowers his head before following him as the girls frown curiously as they disappear. Elso is silent as they head to the cockpit, taking long, strong strides as he interlaces his arms behind his back. He has the feel of someone casual but very confident in his abilities. He veers off to the controls while his student steps back next to a panel. Elso presses in several controls and Marcos winces, feeling the ship vibrate and hum as the star map reactivates. The landing feet slowly hover into the air as the blue engines activate and allow the ship to carefully rise into the air. The towers soon drop below them as Marcos looks away from the dome, not wanting to watch as they race into the atmosphere. His breathing tightens as he struggles to maintain his expressionless composure. Then his master presses some more buttons and the stars are replaced by thousands of streams of blue light.

"So," He asks, plopping on the pilot's seat and spinning around to look at his pupil, "What's the issue with the Zeltron?"

He looks his master in the eyes, not quite expecting that or knowing how to answer. He takes a moment, trying to find the best way to express himself towards a man he barely knows and has major respect within their ranks.

"Why even have her?" He finally asks and Elso tilts his head, beckoning him to continue, "I mean…She's a slave. Even if you agree with slavery, she has no purpose to our training or our mission. At least, not that you've told me." His words are slow and husky, a result of his dry mouth and anxiety, "She's not force sensitive. Yes, her species has mind powers but nothing compared to a Sith or even Jedi. I think. To be honest, I've never met one." He says, staring into the floor between them, eyes wide as he thinks to himself, "I just don't think it's wise having Nimus around a slavery, given…Given her background."

Elso listens to every word respectfully, nodding at times and remaining silent at others. He takes a moment and leans to the side, resting his head on his fist while his elbow rests on the armrest.

"And her background, judging from her race and gender, is that of a slave? I read the reports of where she was found."

The last part lures Marcos' curiosity. While Nimus had hinted in the past at her childhood and her reactions to Nar Shaddaa and her brutal treatment of the Hutt, her exact history still alludes him. His master continues.

"You feel she will be distract or overly sympathetic. She will attempt to seek…a sibling figure or someone to relate with." Marcos nods softly, "I agree to an _extent_." He says, chewing his cheek in thought, "She slaughtered the Hutt. Cut off his throat. I think while she is the softest of the three, she's the most dangerous as well.

"Lyris is the most straight of you lot. She's aggressive, powerful and deadly with physical combat but that is a result of her desire to prove her might. Her actions are then predictable if you are around her enough. You know what she'll fall back on. You. You are powerful in the force. More so than the rest but you have this," he pauses, thinking of the right word, " _reluctance_. You're full of hate. A lot of it. But you don't like it. When you're pissed, you lose control in a powerful, Sith way but you regain that control very quickly. You're spiteful but logical. I know about how we recruited you."

Marcos stiffens. For a moment they stare at each other silently, Elso curious at what his student will do with Marcos figures out _what_ to do. After a moment Elso makes another comment, happy that his student didn't look away or back down.

"Your context makes it clear that will struggle with my training because you struggle with what we are. Nimus…She lacks that fear of hate. She may be the softest. The weakest in a duel. She may be below you in a force fight. But at the end of the day, if you push her enough, she will _always push harder and enjoy it._ Ask her once she gets out of the refresher." He says, nodding towards the sound of steam, "She won't deny it.

"So I suggest we let her have her fun or…companion…or whatever the Zeltron is to her. It won't take away from the fact she will always hate being tossed around. And that's only one reason for the Zeltron, anyway. Having someone that can allure Jedi and Sith masters into her will is a rare thing. Why do you think they're so rare?" Marcos shrugs, "Because we tried to cull them into our services as interrogators." He scratches his chin, "Yeah, what a great result that was." He groans, "Besides, she could also help with Lyris." He laughs, "To be honest, I was actually going to send her somewhere to deal with it before she left." He admits with a chuckle.

Marcos frowns, not really understanding his master's point. After a few brief chuckles, Elso shrugs, not knowing how to word this.

"She's Togruta and coming of age. Why do you think she's such a bitch all the time?" He swindles on his chair to look at the blue gloom of hyperspace, "She needs to vent all her frustrations but it's very clear from her files and her past she don't know _how_." She shrugs, "Let the Zeltron help her. She was a slave after all."

The last comment makes Marcos' stomach tighten somewhat, not expecting such a blunt comment. He bows, head completely lowered.

"My master."

"My apprentice." He confirms, allowing his pupil to leave as he stares out at the road to Ilum.

Marcos sighs, not wanting to imagine Lyris relieving her…issues. _She'd probably murder the poor guy_. He almost chuckles when he remembers the part about her past. Out of the three of them, she's always been the most quiet and that includes about her past. Without lying, Marcos had always assumed she'd just accepted being selected by the Sith during the extremely short occupation the Empire had over her world. The freedom to explore the universe, become far more powerful than ever imagined, murder people. That just seems like a normal thought for her to join the chance for there to be more of it. Perhaps that's one of Marcos' fallings: always falling into assumptions.

He veers to the left immediately roll his eyes, the sounds of the hormonal Togruta's voice smashing into his ears. He watches as she storms over to a very shaken Zeltron, glaring at the slave girl as if she's a mere rodent.

"What did I just say?!" She barks, "You touch me, you die. I don't like being touched, even if it's just a tapping of my shoulder."

The girl steps back, lower lip quivering. Lyris doesn't let up, preferring to step forward and increase her glare.

"Don't even look at me. I don't care if Nimus chose to keep you around. That doesn't mean I-"

"Lyris! Stop bullying Svena."

Nimus waddles forward, dirty clothes under her arm as she frowns at the Togruta. Her new attire is very conservative, a clear contrast to her previous slave dress. Her fluffy robe is a bright orange which contrasts nicely to her emerald skin, something which Lyris catches herself noticing. Svena turns to her in confusion, feeling the slight difference in emotion and Lyris catches herself and glares before she dares speak out.

"And don't you think about using those damn emotion or slut powers on me." She hisses but Nimus steps between.

"Enough or I'll cut off a horn in your sleep."

Th next chain of events happens within three seconds. Lyris pauses. Svena looks at her in terror. Nimus attempts to smirk. Nimus is thrown into the wall. A lightsaber is pressed into Nimus' throat. Marcos goes to throw Lyris off but hisses as he looks down to his bloodied hands again. He looks up, seeing Lyris barely her teeth at the girl. Nimus, on her part, is glaring. Her knee is perfectly placed between Lyris' thighs, offering her a very painful and sensitive area to strike.

"I've had…such a long fucking day." Marcos sighs, shaking his head, "Someone heal my damn hands so we can all go to bed. Svena, if that's your real name, avoid Lyris. Lyris is a bitch. Lyris, leave everyone alone…like we always tell you. Nimus, stop provoking the lunatic."

"Marcos?" The two say at once.

"Fuck off."

"Please be quiet."

He sighs and turns to Svena, offering up his battered hands.

"Know any medical techniques?" She shakes her head and he sighs, "Lyris, for the love…of everything…let go." He says, feeling his frustration start to get the better of him, "LYRIS!"

She slowly deactivates her weapon and steps back, staring foully at the human who just huffs hotly at her. He holds up his black and purple hands, still shaking even worse than before.

"I don't care who does it or how. I will be in my room and waiting for someone to enter. Now, if I _don't_ get someone in there within five minutes, I will murder you." He looks at them and chuckles, "We good? GREAT. Now hurry the fuck up." He says spitefully, heading to his door.

He reaches out the control panel but groans loudly, hitting his head against the metal as he remembers his fingers. The door slides open and he sees a red hand next to him. He nods his thanks to Svena as he fumbles his way into his room, hissing at the feeling of his fingers moving.

" _…and so the council has moved that we, for the time being, may need to focus our resources elsewhere."_

Elso leans forward, placing his elbows on the desk as he stares at the head Inquisitor. Despite being supposedly above the initial rank of inquisitor, the heads aren't actually trackers or bringers of justice amongst the Sith. No, they are the underlinings of the Dark Council, meaning they mostly delegate tasks or information to and from the masters and the Council. It was yet another method to ensure that the Emperor is safe from being overthrown. If anyone is powerful enough to be deemed a threat, just toss them a useless promotion. That being said, revolutions have been caused over much less.

"This cult is force sensitive. They've killed several Sith. One of them managed to almost kill two students with his bare hands."

" _We only know that_ one _was force sensitive. He may have just been a unique. And the defeat of two students should not be used as a way of stating the threat level. They were children. Pathetic ones at that."_

"So we do nothing? Ok, what happens when they get so confident in their pursuit of relics that they infiltrate the temple? Or the capital? Or anywhere else that has major significance to our order? We need to continue this investigation. Besides, one master away from the battlefield won't make or break the war. Or have our numbers dropped _that_ much? It's hard to tell with the conflicting reports." He mutters.

" _Choose your next words wisely, Darth Elso. The students would be of more value to the war effort, not some treasure hunt. Besides, they failed at gaining the relic."_

"Heavily implying they'll try again? Besides, there is no way they were after the relic itself. It was a necklace worn by Marka Ragnos when he was killed. He poured his hatred into it and tried to preserve his essence. He _failed._ The force is strong with the relic, yes, but it has no use alone. They might need it for something else. They're going to sneak into another site. We need to work out what they want."

" _What we need is a stable boarder near the Mandalorian regions."_

"If only we controlled them." Elso muses with a soft smirk.

The figure goes silent and Elso looks up, smiling politely at the man. After a moment the Sith shrugs.

"Too far? I'm sorry."

" _Report to the boarder. That is my final warning."_

"Well I was given specific clearance to investigate this by the council. Give me an audience with them. Otherwise, no."

The image flickers and abruptly switches off, making Elso chuckle as he puts his feet up on the table. He places his arms behind his head as he looks at the ceiling, curiously thinking about Ilum and the amulet.

The doors slide open and Marcos looks up from the dirty shirt in his hands as Nimus enters, the holocron in her hands along with a small bowl of water and a medical kit. He closes his eyes in relief as she places it on the table, sitting on the tiny sitting across from him. He throws away his shirt and turns to her as she places a pillow on his place and carefully cups each hand. He winces softly as she examines the swelling and severe bruising.

"You've completely crushed your hands." She states, digging into a tiny bag she got from the medbay.

She pulls out a scanner and hums softly as she examines his digits, seeing how broken, swollen and disjointed they are. After a moment she frowns, putting it down as she pulls out an injector.

"You have a major infection in both hands. You should've treated this early on." She explains as she places one of his hands into her palm. "Until I get good enough to heal infections…"

He nods understandingly and then screams loudly as the sharp object is plunged into the purple skin. He almost whimpers as the burning liquid pushes through his weakened or burst veins. He hisses softly as she pulls it out, a trail of contaminated blood oozing out immediately in an attempt to ease the swelling. She smiles softly as she grabs his other hand, repeating the horrible process as he holds back his watering eyes. The feeling of having your broken bones forcibly moved by a burning liquid is almost enough to knock him out already and that was only to kill the infection.

She wipes away the blood and puts the used injectors in a clear, sealed bag. Grabbing his hand softly again, she puts it between them and activates the holocron. Eyeing the wording again and then placing her fingers in the way her master instructed, she begins. It takes a while for the numbing to return but after three attempts over fifteen minutes the first step of healing activates. It's still a major improvement from last time. The numbing feeling lasts for several moments as she chews her lips, trying to allow the body to sew itself back together. The colour slightly lightens to a sickly yellow but the fingers are still broken and bloodied. She sighs and holds his still broken hand, gently washing away the blood from his palm and wrist. The pain is only a slight ache but whenever he tries to move his fingers raw pain flows through him. After several more attempts over the next hour the bone is set probably and the swelling is removed as she focusses on his fingers.

"Why kept the girl?" He asks, wincing as she holds a finger and carefully cracks the joint into alignment.

"Because her species could be useful." She says simply but Marcos looks at her, staring into her deep and soft eyes. "It's with us or on the street, being…fucked by some pirates or something."

"We're Sith, not a charity." He counters before wincing as she pops a jammed finger out, "We should have just left her on Nar Shaddaa. Or somewhere else. She's not trained, Nimus. She could die. Or distract us. Or-"

"What's this really about?" She asks, looking directly at him as she realigns his final finger.

"I…" He breathes deeply, "I don't know. I guess I just don't think she wants to be here."

"So your logic has changed from about us to about her. I think you're just looking for a target to vent at." She concludes, refocussing on his fingers for a final attempt at healing them.

"I can vent all I want. I have nothing to vent about." He hisses but she almost smirks.

"Because you just _love_ the fact you're here as well." She counters softly, watching as the fingers slowly shrink back to a healthy size.

She ignores his glare as she washes away some more blood and hums about the yellow bruises. If she focusses too much on one hand, she might not be able to finish the second one. _As if Lyris will even bother arriving._ She finishes cleaning the hand and carefully places it at his side.

"Don't move it. I've reset the bones and removed the infection but the muscles are extremely tender."

She goes to place his second hand on the pillow between them as the door opens. Lyris' tired eyes scan them, noting Marcos' shirtless state and then wrinkling her nose at the desk filled with bloodied materials. Her outfit is a simple sleeveless training shirt and shorts but surprisingly no shoes or socks. She stands silently in front of them, making Marcos feel uncomfortable and awkward.

"Sit. He has one more hand to be fixed." Nimus says, nodding to the holocron as she gets up and starts to place all the dirty equipment in a bundle.

Lyris nods stiffly and looks at the images and notes on the technique. Not an overly fast reader, she takes a few moments before looking down at the battered hand on the pillow. If he could clench either hand, Marcos would. He offers a polite smile, desperately trying to mask the utter dread this task is giving him. It's not that Lyris is bad at the force. She's just close to terrible. She grabs the chair Nimus was using and sits next to Marcos, examining his hand closely while Marcos looks away. She moves her hands into the position on the screen but she jumps slightly as green hands correct her positioning. Nimus had somehow snuck behind her, reaching around her as she breathes softly on her shoulder. The action makes Lyris tense up even more and she begins to feel uncomfortable, forming in the way of hating Nimus again as she fails to handle the emotion. Before she can bark at the girl, Nimus speaks up first.

"This position works more than the one shown." She whispers softly, "Now pour softly and allow the body to do the rest of the work."

"Marcos. Marcos."

Something nudges the sleepy apprentice awake and he groggily swears as he tries to clear his vision. Lyris holds his hands down, making sure he doesn't move them without thinking straight. He looks down and sees the hand slightly more swollen and battered but a good first attempt by the girl. Nimus had avoided lecturing the girl, for fear of death. Lyris, on her part, had been patient and listened well. Marcos was asleep within ten minutes. A fact he begins to envy as he yawns. Nimus places all the materials in the bag and looks at the sleepy human.

"The second hand might be a bit tender. She did well but it was her first attempt." She explains, exiting with the used supplies.

He nods and mumbles something, pulling both of his hands into his lap. He winces as he tries to clench them, feeling how stiff the muscles and joints are even after two rounds of healing. Still, having gone from being crushed to only having some mobility issues is an impressive feat. He smiles at Lyris softly, still in that drowsy morning state.

"Thanks. You did well." He chuckles, holding the numb limb up.

"No issues." She responds, feeling uncomfortable and awkward again due to a clear lack of social skills.

He watches her for moment, seeing just how uneasy she is with social skills.

"Your tribe wasn't big, was it?" He asks and she looks at him in confusion, thrown off by such a question, "You, ah, don't seem to like talking to people."

She shrugs, not really knowing what to say. He's right of course. She was never a major talker, even before things went to shit in her village.

"Just because I don't talk doesn't mean I didn't have people to learn it from."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning mind your own business." She grunts as she gets up.

Her feet suddenly lock into place and she snaps towards Marcos. He lowers his quivering fingers and stops hissing as the pain lowers to a tolerable level. He rubs him slowly, knowing not to try that for long in the future.

"Lyris. Please." He says and the room goes into silence.

After a brief moment, she reluctantly sits down and stares at him. He clears his increasingly dry throat and leans forward.

"Look, I'm just curious. You've got to give me that much."

Her lips tighten and she has the urge to strike him for invading her personal history but she tampers it. After the recent few days, she does owe him that little privilege.

"I…I was found as a child…by another tribe. I was not," She closes her eyes as her lips form a tight line, "treated well. _That_ is all that you need to know."

"I'm so-"

"SHUT UP!" She screams, feeling the hatred in her stomach form again, "Don't you dare pity me. I don't need it. I am a Sith. You are a pathetic…attempt at one. You don't even want to be here. You're too busy whiny about tight, uneven spaces or being taken to actually amount to anything."

He gets up, feeling slightly hurt after the second comment is made. With several steps forward, he lines her up, knowing she'll likely hit him before he can defend. He'll need to strike her quickly with the force and by surprise. His hands mean he can't hand a long or sustained physical fight with her and they both know it.

"What did you just say to me?"

"Oh, you're going to pretend like you're tough? Like you're the kind but stern boss? Face it, you're just a small child with an egotistical streak that he uses to hide his insecurities."

He bites his lip, breathing in deeply as he stares death into her eyes.

"And you are just a weakling who Nimus could probably kick to shit. Face it, you just have family issues," He leans into her face and smirks, "and also major insecurities that you are _shit_ at hiding."

She grabs his throat and he wraps a layer of force around hers, making them both pause. Sensing a stalemate, they glare at each other, their short, strong breaths lingering on each other's mouths. Lyris clenches her teeth and contemplates tightening her grip on her but a tiny yank on her throat reminds her she's just as screwed. Frustrated at the lack of being able to strike him, she seethes silently while he remains stoic, every so often tightening his hold. She almost whimpers, clenching her fists in a desperate attempt to relieve the tension. _Hurt him. Crush him. Make him beg for mercy. Make him suffer for his stupidity._ Then she leans forward.

The force immediately leaves her throat as Marcos' body stiffens, trying to work out why warm, soft lips are roughly being smashed into his own. _What…Is this…This is horrible._ He frowns at the girl who clearly has no idea what she is doing. Her lips are roughly squirming around his in a closer form of lip bitting than actual kissing. It makes him feel weird. He steps away, looking at a now extremely offended and upset Togruta. Her mouth gapes and trembles, not knowing what to say as her hatred of him goes full fold. He quickly sees some hurt in her eyes and for the first time in a very long time, she looks her age. He quickly steps forward and cups her chin.

"Softly." He instructs before leaning in.

The initial contact is awkward again, neither of them having any actual experience despite their ages. He gently massages her lips with his, slowly leaning his head to the side so he can drag his lower lip sideways along hers. She moans softly at the contact, feeling her frustration ease off slightly as she stands stiffly. She lets him take the lead for a few moments before she gets curious and confident enough to lean into him, softly pulling his lip between hers and suckling on it softly. The action makes him strain somewhat, feeling a pressure form lower as he shyly tries to hide it. Not knowing his reasons or intentions, Lyris purrs softly as she grabs the back of his head, leaning into him more as she claims his mouth. His taste is plain, not like much of the comments of soppy women her age, but it's more than pleasant enough for her. She pushes her body deeper into him, wanting him to submit to her. Marcos tries to back away again, her chest rubbing into his while his cheeks ripen. Then her thigh grazes against it. Her lips stop worshipping his and both of them stare directly in front of them, neither knowing how to react.

She eyes him curiously, leaning in closely again but she doesn't kiss him again. His entire body locks into place as she cups his length curiously. He opens his mouth to express his unease but he winces sharply as she squeezes too roughly.

"Ly…Humans…aren't…Weak spot. Please." He begs, squirming into her hand as he leans against the wall.

She eases off but still squeezes it, watching his reaction as he moans under her touch. She smirks inwardly, chuckling in her mind as he relies on her for his pleasure. _Where's the ego gone?_ She watches his breathing deepen as she traces the length with a finger as she watches his chest rise and lower. He's trimmed. That's probably the best way to describe him. He lacks overly noticeable muscles or any fat. He's just average with the lean structure of a man who's been in training for a year. She leans down and sucks his neck, smirking again as he gasps desperately. She drags her teeth along his skin before sinking them into him, making his stiffen and clutch her horns in slightly pain. He sighs as she kisses it better and he eases the pressure off his aching hands, allowing them to stroke her horns and then strokes a Lek. Lyris blushes as she hears her moan and goes to stop him from embarrassing her further but he begins massaging and stroking it.

They throb and make her gasp desperately, clutching onto his sides as she digs her nails into his skin. He hisses but focusses on tracing them with his fingertips and then he leans down, licking one slowly as his tongue glides around the head tail. She shudders and actually almost falls, needing Marcos to support her as she clenches her warm thighs together. Feeling her control on the situation fade, she kneels so he can't reach her sensitive organ. She places her fingers within the band of his pants and slowly pulls them down. His size is just over seven inches and averagely thick, throbbing nicely as she looks at his trimmed black patch. She looks up humorously and he looks away, feeling uncomfortable.

"It's…It's a hygiene thing…and I don't like it being…uneven." He shrugs and she smiles, rewarding him with a soft kiss on the tip.

The simple action makes him shut up and sigh loudly, closing his eyes as he involuntarily bucks into her hand. She smirks yet again, enjoying the position they're in. His most sensitive area in her hand, him pleading at her. She feels the raw heat of the muscle and squeezes it again, stroking the looser skin around the taut organ. He grips the wall tightly, moaning in bliss as her surprisingly soft hand caresses him in slow, strong strokes.

"Hmm. You like that, human?" She growls, speeding up softly as he nods, almost whimpering, "How much? Tell me." She growls.

"So…fucking…much." He gasps.

The words are pure ecstasy to her as she rubs her thighs together, not quite knowing how to ease the growing pressure. She wasn't lying about her upbringing. Everything from being fed to being taught how the body works and how societies work was always skewed. Every time she even expressed some level of desire or any other weak emotion, she was beaten. Her sexual history or education isn't exactly that high. The memories distract her somewhat as her strokes slow down softly, giving him enough time to softly stroke her horns. While not nearly as sensitive as the Lekku, the action still draws her attention and she looks back at the length. She stares at it as she ponders her next action, not quite feeling that brave for it. After a few moments of thought, she leans forward, opening her mouth to take him in.

His moan seeps through the room as a hot, warm and soft feeling encases him. He sighs as his back tenses up, chewing his lip as his throbbing increases, growing closer to finishing. She adjusts her jaw slowly as she gets used to the object in her mouth, resting on her damp and warm tongue, not knowing how to continue. She curiously wraps her tongue around the tip, coating it in a warm, sleek sheen of salvia. The action makes him buck over her head, groaning as he grits his teeth, feeling the sensation going down his spine. She repeats the process and then leans forward a little more, seeing how much she can fit in. With every passing inch, the louder he becomes. She fits about two thirds of him in and then she gags softly, frowning at the uncomfortable sensation. For him though, the vibration is heaven and he hums slowly. Watching him with a raised brow, she softly hums around his meat and he almost collapses. She slowly pulls back, letting him slide out agonisingly slow as she enjoys his desperation, his need for her. His showing that she's superior to him. And then she slides back down onto his lap, humming as she bops back and forth. He gasps loudly, his chest rising up and down wildly as he digs his sensitive fingers into the wall.

She continues her heavenly ministrations on him for a few more minutes but he simply can't last much longer. He's simply too inexperienced for it. She pulls all the way off him and looks back up at his strained and sweaty face, smirking as a link of salvia connects her plump lips to his shaft. That sight alone is enough to push him over the edge her but she doesn't seem to understand. Feeling him pulse and throb steadily within her mouth, she swallows him up again.

And then the door opens…

"Svena was saying that something wa-"

Nimus pauses, her mouth dropping open in shock as Marcos tries to contain the situation. He bucks forward in surprise but the action causes him to sink fully into her mouth. Lyris gags in shock as her gag reflex makes her heave and her throat tighten around him as it pushes into her throat. He tries to pull out immediately but it's too late. As he gets halfway out his first spurt happens on her tongue and he manages to get out, instead landing a second and third shot on her neck and upper chest and the rest on the floor. She gags and retches softly, collecting the warm liquid on her tongue. She places some of the extremely salty material on her tongue and eyes it, looking at white substance as Marcos rubs his chin.

"Well…Fuck."


	9. The Intangible Pt 2

A/N: I'm back bitches. Hope you're having a great week

Again, I would really appreciate a review or even PM this week purely because of the content in this chapter. I don't know if anyone has any major issues so I've decided just to write a smut chapter so you can see what type of stuff I'd be writing if this continued. If you like or dislike it or anything else so far, please say.

So yeah, this is mostly an erotic chapter but also one that helps develop where each character stands with each other towards the end.

As usual, I also lack an editor so please forgive the odd typo.

Have fun

No. 9: The Intangible Part 2

Lyris turns and looks at Nimus blankly, the salty taste still lingering on her tongue as her throat slowly relaxes. The action wasn't exactly welcomed or called for but not for the reasons you'd think. The fact he did it without asking and even went so far as to thrust in deeper makes her wish she wasn't so rewarding with him. _Maybe a few more bites will train him to show better respect_ she mentally huffs. Nimus remains silent, not knowing what to say; feeling somewhat angry, betrayed by the secrecy if it has been a semi long term affair, and mildly alone considering they'd be together while she had no one. True, she has Svena but she's been with them a single _day._ That's hardly enough time for the shy Nimus to try to awkwardly woo her. If she was more casual towards sex or even more confident this may have been a very different matter. Marcos smiles politely, trying to awkwardly pull up the underwear around his ankles as tries to come to terms with the fact he was arguably just sexually assaulted.

"Can we help you?" Lyris asks in a stony manner and Nimus scoffs.

"I don't know. Can you? Or are you too busy spreading them?" She sneers and Marcos, still trying to pull up his clothes, holds out a hand while bent over.

"Ah, actually, we…ah…Just the mouth actually." He admits and Lyris snorts.

 _You need to learn to hide your emotions._ She shakes her head and leans back, sitting on her rump while Marcos looks around to find his pants. He looks up and groans in distaste, gesturing to the spurts on her cleavage that she hasn't bothered to wipe off yet. She collects it in her fingers and smirks, looking at Nimus as she opens her mouth and licks the substance off. Even Marcos looks uncomfortable by such a sexual act and Nimus' distaste is immediately felt.

"He tastes good." Lyris further adds, making the Twi'lek seethe while Marcos shrugs.

"Huh? I thought guys actually tasted horribly and women only lie-"

"Do you honestly think I'm that desperate for him?" Nimus snaps and the human begins to feel extremely uncomfortable as the two women glare at each other.

"Can we take this out of my ro-"

"I just think you're not used to not servicing a man and seeing someone else do it concerns you." Lyris mocks.

"We're all virgins here."

"I think you're just a power hungry, sad little girl who…who thinks that sucking a guy off will give her something she's never had before." Nimus cuts the human off.

"And what's that?" Lyris snorts.

"Control over something, including yourself." Nimus smirks and Marcos rolls his eyes.

"Guys, I'm not property. Hell, I'm not even that big. Ask her. It was average at bes-"

"Oh, please. I've heard that choir before. Is the little Twi'lek feeling lonely?" Lyris laughs, "Go play with your Zeltron pet while I play with mine."

"Serious, Lyris. The fuck is wrong with this concept?" Marcos asks to a seemingly deaf duo.

"Svena wouldn't go near you. No one would. You're used to that though, aren't you?" Nimus slowly starts stepping forward, making Nimus frown at the boldness, "Don't pretend you're some all-powerful sex queen." She leans down and starts cooing, "Does the little Togruta even know what masturbation is? Awww. Her elders must've treated her pretty roughly if the only sexual act she can think of is servicing a man." She snarls.

Lyris launches at her, tackling the girl to the ground and throwing a punch to her face. Nimus manages to swivel to the side and they both try to kick at the other but their interlaced bodies makes it hard to get any momentum. Marcos sighs, thankful neither has their lightsabers, before sitting down and watching to make sure no serious harm is done. He stares at his tender fingers and hums, wishing he could pry them apart. But after imagining how they'd react to him stopping them, he becomes thankful for his reason to stay out of it. Nimus somehow ends up straddling Lyris but it's only for a second as a thick horn is pounded into her gut. A loud ' _oof!'_ is followed by Lyris throwing her off. She clutches Nimus' Lekku but the Twi'lek immediately copies her. They both glare at each other as they realise it's a stalemate, both refusing to risk a potential coma if the other squeezes hard enough. Marcos, having been amusing himself with his ceiling, notices the pause in aggression and sits back up on his bunk.

"We done?"

They refuse to answer, both of them too busy trying to figure a way out of this. Marcos sighs, laying back down and imagining a potential renovation to the room should his master allow it. A possible holodesk could prove useful for planning or even passing the time. They can cost a lot, though. He hums to himself, imagining where he can place it within his room.

Nimus suddenly tries to sink into the steel floor, wincing softly as the smudges of white Marcos had left Lyris threaten to slide onto her collar. Lyris quickly understands what's going on and she grins wolfishly, leaning her bust down onto the girl. She hisses and kicks against the girl, whimpering pathetically as the cooled liquid drops onto her emerald skin. Lyris chuckles as she gets off the girl, sitting next to her with a smirk as Nimus closes her eyes in disgust. She gingerly reaches up and wipes the cum off her neck, creaking her eyes open to examine the texture. After a moment she frowns and Lyris snorts.

"It's weird, I know. The taste was salty as an ocean, too."

Feeling his ears burn, Marcos looks up and narrows his eyes at them as they continue to critique him.

"Humans are…interesting." She murmurs, clearly trying to be politely.

"And how are Twi'leks better?" He snaps but she shrugs.

"From what the others have told me, it is less…cold and sleek." She answers and he groans.

"it's cold because I finished five minutes ago and I can't help the second thing. It's…It's a species thing." He cries, clearly offended and feeling a level of insecurity hit him.

His lack of experience has left him without an answer to many things, especially how to handle conversations like these. He stands up and crosses his arms, trying to maintain a solid composure despite being flush at the two women staring at him. Lyris smiles predatorily, clearly enjoying the torment her newfound pet has found himself in. She lazily gestures to him.

"His member is like him as well. The tip is so softly and _pink_. It's oddly adorable."

His mouth gapes.

"My cock is not adorable, you venomous, emotionally devouring muz." He spits but his blush increases as she lets out a deep chuckle.

"It's not average, as well." She adds as Nimus looks him over, "Not ridiculously large but…appreciated."

"Is it sad that's the _first_ compliment you've ever given me?" He scoffs but Nimus doesn't listen, merely eyeing him over curiously before growing in courage.

"Is it like a Twi'lek's or weird shaped?" She asks but Lyris shrugs.

"Show her."

"Um, excuse me?" Marcos asks hotly, suddenly letting go of his teenage embarrassment and replacing it with anger at being treated like a toy again, "While it's great you two have stopped being a constant source of a migraine, however, I'm not a pleasure slave."

"I think we made him sensitive." Lyris grunts and his clenches his fist only to hiss and cup the healing part of his body.

"I told you to be more careful." Nimus says softly but Lyris nods swiftly again.

"Show her." She instructs before continuing, "Or I'll force you."

"Are we really getting into a rape scenario right now?" He sighs but Lyris, seeing an opportunity, turns to Nimus with a feral grin.

"Maybe he's just shy. Show him your chest." She says forcefully but Nimus laughs before turning to glare at her.

"Fuck off. Some people are more reserved about their bodies and don't just throw their Lekku around."

 _Please don't mention their size._ Marcos sighs, imagining the inevitable fight that would result from such a comment. Lyris tatters and reaches forward, softly yanking at her robe in an almost playful manner. The action reminds Marcos of a child trying to getting their parents' attention by yanking their shirt, making him wonder about her parents or if she even played as a child. Nimus lazily slaps her away but the action makes her robe shift in such a way that the upper swell of her breast is revealed. Lyris takes a quick moment to compare in an almost rival way, hating any part of Nimus that could possibly surpass her, even if it's something as trivial as body shape. Lyris can't be classed as vain per say, but being spiteful and petty can easily sink into other areas of life. From the mostly covered view presented to her, Nimus' breasts are smaller but still perky and round with the emerald tinge making it more alluring. Lyris inwardly grins, happy her bust is larger but not by a major length.

Nimus notices Lyris blatantly staring at her while Marcos looks at the ceiling again with a blush and looks down. She quickly goes to cover herself back up again but Lyris clutches her wrists, turning to Marcos as he frowns.

"They look nice. Not as…large or…appealing as other but still-"

"We get it, you have a superiority complex." Nimus sighs, "Can I please hide my cleavage now?"

Using the force, Lyris slowly tugs the rope open some more and holds the other squirming girl still as she tries to get away. The orange cloth is separated slowly and the two swells of her chest are revealed entirely. The emerald orbs stick forward boldly into the air, the smooth skin trailing from her chest to the hard, darker nubs at the front. They are much perkier than Lyris', a newfound fact that makes her glare softly at them as she continues her examination. The nipples are small, about the size of a coin, and pointed forwards as a result of the cool air caressing them. Nimus whimpers in shame, desperately trying to cover herself but Lyris strokes her cheek softly.

"Shhh." She whispers, "They are very nice, aren't they?"

Marcos, who had been trying to avoid looking only to sneak peeks in every few seconds, turns around and clears his throat. His mouth waters as he looks at the first breasts he's actually seen in his life. He freezes for a moment, just drinking them in with his eyes as he forgets the slight ache in his hands and ignoring the pressure in his pants. Lyris doesn't allow herself to ignore his reaction, though. She smiles and turns back to a heavily blushing Nimus.

"He likes this. He likes them." She says softly, tracing two fingers down the valley between her mounds, making Nimus stiffen and whimper again. "Show us. All of it. And then he'll show you his."

Marcos turns to her, noticing the fact she left out the possibility of her revealing herself but is soon distracted by Nimus. She gives Lyris an extremely nervous and even scared look but the Togruta nods encouragingly, even stroking her cheek again. Nimus leans upwards, resting on her rear, and looks down as she pulls away the top of her robe. She lets it pool at her hips as she closes her eyes in embarrassment and shame while the others have very different reactions. Marcos, slowly growing more used to the nudity, leans forward somewhat, studying her beautiful figure intently as if it's the finest book yet. Lyris shifts again, frowning to herself as her thighs tense uneasily. Not used to the feeling or how to handle it, she tries to ignore it as she watches Nimus sit there limp. She slides a few inches and moves to the side of Nimus, looking at Marcos expectantly. He almost swallows his tongue but she tatters again.

"A deal's a deal." She scolds but she shakes his head.

"That I didn't agree to!"

"I've literally had it in my mouth and tasted your essence. Shut up and drop them."

Thrown off by the surprisingly accurate logic, he stares at Lyris and then at the still despondent Nimus. With a loud sigh, he winces to himself as he forces his underwear down, revealing his member to them both. Lyris smirks at his obedience and then reaches around, putting a hand under Nimus' chin and pushing it upwards at Marcos' groin. Her green eyes widen as her mouth opens a tiny amount. _She was right. It's so…pink._ Twi'leks came in many colours, depending on the region of Ryloth you came from. Not a single one of them were so…soft looking. Even the yellow and orange toned members of her race always had a sharper look to them as opposed to this softer, pinker form in front of her. He's still somewhat hard, but that's no doubt due to the appearance of Nimus' chest, and even from this distance she can make out the dried saliva and even essence on the tip of his hardness. Lyris smiles at Nimus' enthralled reaction, clearly as inexperienced as the both of them. Despite constantly referring to her status as the group slut, Lyris never doubted the purity of the girl next to her. She's always been to…closeted for a sexual history.

"I told you. He's a good size." She whispers into Nimus' mind and she feels the girl tense next to her.

Marcos flushes again and actually tries to cover himself but Lyris refuses to allow him. She pushes back his hands with the force and gives him a warning look as Nimus turns to her.

"You…Your turn." She stammers shyly.

To say Lyris is thrown off by that would be an understatement. Her mouth gapes at such a request and Marcos takes his turn to smirk, smiling devilishly as he crosses his arms expectantly. Lyris shakes her head but Nimus pokes her Lek, making her groan softly. She threatens to do it again and Lyris sighs, feeling her control on the situation slip as they gang up on her. She leans back so she can use her arms probably and closes her eyes, pulling her shirt off. The action takes several moments as she tries to navigate her Lekku and horns through the clearly human shirt and eventually growls, ripping it off her body. She huffs irritably, throwing the strands of the shirt away in anger as the others stare at her. The panting motion makes her large frame rise and fall. They're larger than Nimus' and a very beautiful shade of orange with a darkened, creamier colour on the nipples. They're large enough for both of the others to struggle to fit their hands around them but they are in proportion to her body. From the amount of skin shown, it's clear that both girls are merely the right size for their bodies. Lyris' are larger due to her species having a larger build than a Twi'leks. In fact, both of them look like they would be on the average area in terms of size within their own species. That means little to Marcos, however. Despite their attitudes, mostly Lyris, they are simply beautiful to him.

Lyris opens and closes her mouth as she stares at the ground, cupping a Lek in what can easily be described as nervousness as they inspect her. The images of people laughing and hurting her make her cover her chest with her spare arm but Nimus gently pulls it away. She massages the limb softly and then makes sure she keeps her front bare like the rest of them.

"Um, so what now?" Marcos asks and for once Lyris remains silent.

"Did…Did you kiss?" Nimus asks and Lyris looks like she wants to run.

Marcos chuckles and nods, scratching the back of his head.

"Yeah. She tried to eat my mouth." He chuckles again and Lyris glares at him, standing up.

She covers herself again and tries to walk towards the door but Nimus smiles gently and gets up too, holding her shoulders. Lyris tilts her head at the Twi'lek who merely smiles and softly shoves her onto the bunk next to Marcos. Truth be told, the action required a lot more energy than Nimus wants to admit. Lyris' density could rival a star.

"My butt was getting cold." Nimus explains as she sits at the head of the bed.

The three of them get comfortable, or at least, as comfortable as they can get. After a few moments of silence and avoiding eye contact, Marcos opens his mouth.

"So…What are we all comfortable doing?" He asks dryly, feeling odd due to his most private areas being shown while the others still have pants or a lower robe on.

"Um…" Nimus replies shyly, shrugging and mumbling as Lyris stares at her feet.

"Ah, come here." Marcos says, grimacing at how awkward he is.

She looks at him oddly but she nudges her butt next to him and he sighs. He cups her chin and leans forward, slowly and softly capturing her lips. The first few moments are uneven pecks, with him letting her get used to the feeling. Initially shocked, she closes her eyes and tries to mimic him, slowly opening and stroking her lips against his as he pecks her. Lyris' interest in the scene slowly grows as she watches, stretching her legs out in front of her and letting the throbbing ease off a little. He pulls Nimus closer, enjoying the fact he can lead for once, and suckles her bottom lip before giving her a playful bite. She giggles softly and leans in, tracing his teeth with her warm tongue. After a moment's hesitation, he opens his lips more and lets her in. She moans as she strokes his tongue with her own, feeling the relaxing action make her back taut. She pulls back and they both breathe in deeply as Marcos licks his lips, enjoying the sweet taste of her mouth. _Must've had juice or something recently._

She smiles as she shifts and plants herself in his lap, allowing him to wrap his legs around her ass and his arms around her back as his kisses her again. This time, he slips into her mouth and she gasps softly as she feels him explore her mouth. She feels a bit too much squirming and she leans back, wiping her mouth.

"Too much tongue. Just…a little, ok?" She says and he nods, feeling a little deflated.

She smiles softly and strokes his cheek, feeling the rough stubble on his smooth cheek and enjoying the contrast. She leans down and kisses his neck softly, making him tense up under her. She smiles playfully as she feels a certain part of him press in her thigh when she sees a darkened spot on his neck. She pulls his head to the side and traces it with his finger before looking back at Lyris. The Togruta shrugs and Nimus scoffs, leaning down.

"FUCK!"

Marcos hisses loudly as Nimus pulls back, removing her teeth from the mark. Blood threatens to seep from the bite mark and she strokes his head softly, cooing in his ear as she kisses it and nibbles on his ear. The pain quickly eases away and he moans again, loving the feeling of her soft, wet and warm lips caressing his sensitive neck. Lyris chews her lip as she watches him writhe, both enjoying the show but hating the fact someone else is causing it. She watches the smiling Twi'lek who's clearly loving the effect she's having on the human. She crawls forward, resting behind Nimus before leaning down and trailing her tongue along a Lek just like Marcos did to her. The reaction is identical. Nimus stops kissing Marcos and whimpers and almost sobs, stiffening and almost falling into Marcos' arms as her Lekku throb and raw pleasure overtakes her body. Marcos looks at Lyris as Nimus falls into his neck, panting and whimpering as Lyris places her legs around them.

"She's more sensitive than I am." Lyris notes, choosing to avoid the overly sensitive organs in case she gives a painful amount of pleasure.

She leans her head to one side and leans down, kissing the left side of her neck and then suckling on the soft, smooth skin. Nimus lets out a small, pleasured sigh as she closes her eyes. Marcos smiles gently and moves his head down to the other side, suckling the free part of her neck. They trace their tongues along the emerald skin as the pleasant taste enters their mouth. Nimus' moans get louder as she feels the pressure in her thighs increases. She inadvertently rocks her hips to and thro, trying to ease the warmth as her rear massages Lyris' own heat and her front crashes into Marcos' free cock. Lyris reaches around and squeezes Marcos' knee before Nimus gasps in pain before moaning again. Guessing what happened, he licks her throat before sinking his teeth into her, making the girl stiffen yet again until he sucks and kisses the wound. They all moan together and Lyris strokes Nimus' tummy, making Nimus giggle and Marcos smirk. Lyris pulls her hands up higher and rests them at the base of her breasts. Lyris sighs and places her head into Nimus' shoulder, wanting believing her next few words.

"Can I?" She asks, stroking the bottom of Nimus' breasts.

Nimus nods desperately and the feeling of embarrassment from Lyris is washed away as she carefully cups the emerald orbs. Nimus moans loudly as the large hands massage her sensitive flesh, the rough feeling of her dry palm teasing her nipples adding more heat into her thighs. Lyris returns to kissing the girl, squeezing her again but stopping once the girl whimpers and stiffens.

"Not so hard." She says as she cups her hands over Lyris'.

The Togruta stops for a moment but carefully continues once the Twi'lek squeezes her hands. Together, they slowly massage her breasts and caress all of it. Marcos leans back, watching the two girls and licking his lips. He gingerly holds his stiff member and slowly strokes it, his hand sluggishly twirling around the length as he goes up and down. Lyris watches him and a growl emanates from her chest as she paws at Nimus' chest.

"You like this?" She asks and he nods desperately, "Good. I do too." She admits as Nimus gasps and moans.

Tired of being the only one completely naked, Marcos rolls into his tummy with his head towards the girls. He reaches forward and tugs at the fluffy bed robe. Lyris pulls her hands away from the writhing girl's chest and helps spread her legs, allowing Marcos to fully pull it away before the dazed girl can understand what's happening. Nimus quickly tries to cover herself before the others can see her core but Lyris tatters and almost roughly forces her thighs open. Marcos' heat threatens to burst into his chest as his sternum aches in excitement. Being a hairless species, her core is bare and a much darker shade of green. Her lips are tightly pressed together but swollen, revealing a very small hood at the top between the labia. The tight entrance is hot, very hot. The heat pouring off of her hits his face in a very pleasant way, making him lick his lips. Lyris looks down and rests her chin on Nimus' shoulder, licking her lips as well as she sees how fresh and exotic she looks.

Nimus, feeling the most exposed she has ever been in her life, tries to sink into Lyris' form but the larger girl holds her still. Marcos reaches out and traces her inner thighs, smiling to himself as he watches her clench around his hand.

"You're beautiful." He admits in a whisper, massaging her smooth thighs as she slowly relaxes into his palms.

Lyris hums in agreement as she watches him suck on his fingers and look at Nimus for permission. She nods slowly and he leans forward, cupping her sex with his palm. She mewls softly as she feels his soft, warm hand press into her sensitive folds. She smiles stupidly as he feels her wetness and he focusses on her texture, exploring her folds and feeling her entrance. He pulls away and looks at the slick, clear substance on his fingers. He thinks for a moment and then pulls it into his mouth, tasting it curiously. It's rather plain but has a nice tint of citrus here and there. He smiles again before dragging his fingers from the bottom of her lips, along the entrance to her warmth, across the sleek folds to the top of her hood. She gasps softly and he turns to Lyris, holding up his fingers. She tilts her head curiously but reaches forward, holding his hand as she sucks his fingers. He moans as her tongue strokes his digits and licks off the substance before sliding them out.

"She's much less salty." She observes and Nimus blushes shyly.

"Hmm. Still delicious." He says as he leans down, holding her thighs apart.

He kisses her wet lips softly and she relaxes into Lyris' arm, even nuzzling her as Lyris restarts massaging her breasts and tracing her nipples with her fingertips. She even pulls one of them and Nimus hisses and Marcos feels the heat increase softly as he licks it randomly. Not knowing how to approach this, he merely licks it up and down without any tactic. Nimus' moaning turns into squirming and then that results in her softly patting him.

"Not so fast. Uncomfortable." She groans as Lyris kisses her neck.

He nods and then slowly drags his flat tongue from the bottom of her warmth to the top, mirroring his finger from earlier. She shudders in pleasure and then tenses as he traces the tiny bud at the top of the lips. He swirls his wet, warm tongue around it before following his tongue down her lips again. He carefully suckles on a lip and eases off when she grimaces. He quickly kisses it better and watches her as her swirls his tongue at her entrance, smiling as she starts thrusting in his face. He cups her thighs and starts softly thrusting his tongue into her, allowing her to flow her juices into him. It's a slow trickle but pretty consistent as his tongue enters her again, letting her release a throaty moan. Lyris chuckles as she strokes her tummy and breasts before Nimus turns, kissing her softly. Lyris stiffens and doesn't move as Nimus moans and kisses her. She leans into the kiss after a few moments, closing her eyes and sinking her tongue into the Twi'lek's mouth as Nimus humps Marcos.

Marcos swirls his tongue upwards and traces the bud against, feeling Nimus clutch his hair as he does so. He circles it and then suckles it gentle, her desperate and loud moans implying how sensitive it is. Preferring not to repeat the critique earlier, he gives it long, slow licks, encasing it in saliva as his tongue delicately drags around it. She whimpers and sobs softly as he gives a long lick down her lips and then quickly tongue lashing around her clit again. She shakes her head at the action, feeling a strong pressure in her stomach.

"Not…so…fast." She whimpers against Lyris' plump and soft lips.

Feeling her getting hotter and wetter, he ignores her and gives her a few swift swipes across her bid. She stiffens as the urge to pee and release increases and she slowly panics, dreading embarrassing herself like this. She tries to untangle herself from Lyris and get away from the tongue increases the feeling but Lyris holds her down. She offers Lyris a pleading look who looks at her in confusion. Then Marcos suckles her bud one moment too long. She closes her eyes and digs her fingers into his hair to the point of pain. Her body locks into a taut place as body explodes in bliss. Her legs clamp around Marcos' head as he feels her liquids pour into his mouth, filling him slowly as she violently humps his mouth. Lyris' teasing of her nipples soon becomes too much and Nimus winces and softly slaps the hands away as she leans into Lyris' lap and away from the hungry human's mouth. She pants loudly, shuddering every few moments as Marcos sits in front of them. Lyris bites her neck softly before gesturing at Marcos.

He leans forward and she kisses him softly, licking his lips as she gets stronger with the kiss. She collects Nimus' taste from his lips and then pulls back, allowing him to kiss a sleepy Nimus playfully. She rolls her dazed eyes and shifts on Lyris' lap, enjoying the warmth of Lyris' breasts on her back.

"She does taste good." Lyris confirms, making Marcos chuckle as he leans forward and pecks her shoulder.

"Would you like to try a mouth?" He offers but she shakes her head, slightly uneasy about letting someone near her.

Allowing someone to see her like this was already a major leniency towards her fellow apprentices. But seeing her core was another matter altogether. Even she barely pays any attention to it. After being told day after day that going near it was sinful towards the strength of the tribe, it's hard gaining the courage or even interest in that area. She gently lets Nimus roll off her and tries to resume a more prepared stance but Marcos kisses her softly, sucking on her lip as he pulls on her pants.

"No." She grunts but Nimus licks her Lek and she shudders.

Seeing the prime moment to strike, he leans forward and swiftly pulls the pants down to her ankles and then rips them to the floor. Lyris growls and grabs his throat, angrily glaring at him as a wave of shame hits her. His face darkens as she cut off his airways as she tries to find her pants, frantic about someone looking at her this way. Nimus hurriedly taps her shoulder but the Togruta ignores her. Sighing, she leans down and licks a Lek and suckles it with mild strength. The other girl hisses in pleasure and pain, lessening her grip on Marcos who knocks her hand away and gasps loudly. Lyris covers her inner passage and tries to scoot away from them.

"You're not meant…You can't see. Ok?" She hisses, "You're not meant to."

Marcos and Nimus exchange confused looks and then Marcos gestures to their nude forms.

"We're kinda a bit far gone for that." He chuckles but he stops when he sees how panicked she is.

She's desperately covering her core with her palm while her eyes are scanning the floor. The pants thankfully landed under the bed so she'll either have to stand or crawl around Marcos. He pulls at her chin to make her look at him but she knocks it away frantically.

"Why can't people see you fully bare?" Nimus asks carefully and Lyris snaps her head towards the younger girl.

"Why can't you mind your business?!" She shouts, her voice cracking as she slides backwards to the edge of the bed. "You're not…It's wrong. Don't…"

She cups her head and lets out a miserable sob as images of elders hitting her and marking her horns burn into her eyes. With every hit in her mind, her body stiffens as she crawls her legs into her chest, concealing her body. Nimus reaches forward and wiggles her Lekku for a moment but the Togruta doesn't reply, sobbing softly in shame. The Twi'lek puts an arm around her and holds on as Lyris tries to shove against her.

"What's wrong?" She asks softly, kissing her Lekku and horns softly.

"You're not meant to touch me." She breathes shakily, eyes squeezed shut, "It's wrong."

"Why?" Marcos grunts, "According to who?"

"Everyone." She sniffs.

The positon of being huddled in a corner, sobbing into her legs isn't a unique experience for her but it's been years. Not since being a child in her foster tribe has she allowed herself such a weakness, such a display of imperfection and lack of strength. Nimus squeezes her with another kiss before she continues.

"Everyone…You can't touch it. it's wrong. The Elders-"

"Aren't here." Marcos says bluntly, "You said so yourself. You're a Sith. You belong to a different order and system. We live on passion and lust and power. Besides, I think the moment I climaxed in your mouth those views became redundant."

"You don't understand." Lyris sniffs, "Togruta…Only the strong mate. The strongest picks who his or her harem is and then the rest can only mate with others with permission of them. I was…The tribe who found me didn't kill me but they wished they had."

She leans her head down, showing the tops of her horns. Chunks are missing and looks like someone had tried to chisel them off. Thick scars travel down the dip between them and Marcos cups his chin, feeling a level of heat form in his stomach. She looks at Marcos with a blank, dead expression as her eyes bare into him.

"I can't mate. I'm not allowed. Only when I get permission from my elder can someone _see_ my…area." She explains before hiding her head in her knees.

Marcos frowns and then grimaces, rubbing his eyes as he thinks things over. Nimus strokes her back softly, coating the girl in soft, warm kisses over her Lek and crown. Lyris is silent as she feels Nimus stroke her scars softly and slowly closes her eyes, drowning out the memories of shame and belittlement.

He ignores his wounded hands as he clenches them tightly, seething as he storms through the towards the cockpit. He chews his lips, letting out deep, hot breaths as he enters the room. His darkened eyes glance around the room, trying to find his master whilst trying not to draw his saber and lash out. Murder and war is one thing, child assault and shaming is something else. _A child…A fucking child._ He snarls softly to himself until he sees Elso watching a holomap of an ice planet next to the seats. He marches over while his master continues looking at the map, not really paying much attention to his student.

"You're angry." He says bluntly but Marcos ignores it.

"I want a detour." He spits out and Elso chuckles.

"We aren't stopping so you can find more protection. The raw emotions of the three of you was distracting to be honest. I do hope Lyris calms down now. Her mood swings was getting to m-"

"I want to go to Shili." He cuts off impatiently, "We're passing through it. Send me off there and I'll catch up to you."

Elso finally looks away from the map and offers his student a critical stare. He sweeps forward and places his hands behind his back as he stares down at the boy. Marcos slowly feels the touch of hindsight yanking him back from being so aggressive.

"Never cut me off again. _Never._ And why do you want to go her homeworld?" He asks, leaving out the part that they've already past it.

"I…People need to die." He pants softly, looking below him and shaking his head.

"Of course they do. But for the sake of the naïve, be more specific."

"Do you agree with child abuse?"

"No but I agree with priorities. I understand Lyris had a difficult childhood but we are Sith. We thrive on harsh conditions and being stronger for it. Lyris will learn to do the same or perish. It's the way we live."

Marcos chuckles softly in disbelief, shaking his head as he begins to pace. Elso watches him passively, trying to soft pick at his mind. Marcos feels the pressure enter his head and he pushes against it, imagining him forming a wall.

"That's not how a mental shield works." Elso chuckles but eases off, "I trust you're not being overly emotional towards her?"

"There's a difference between overly emotional and not letting injustice continue." He counters and his master grins at the comment.

"True," He nods, walking around Marcos, "But we're Sith, not moral paladins. If she wants to kill them, then we will deal with that later. I won't have you, despite your friendship with her, remove yourself from an investigation to handle this. You're being impulsive."

"Consider it training." He cries out.

"Consider this conversation over." Elso warns, "We will discuss this _after_ Ilum. You will obey my orders."

Marcos almost scoffs but holds it in once he sees the severity of his master's gaze. He lowers his eyes and bows, turning and then silently leaving as his master watches him leave. Elso sighs and scratches his chin as he looks back at Ilum. After a moment's thought, he turns and resumes his seat, albeit in a much more annoyed mood.

"Told you he'd say no." Nimus sighs as she watches Marcos pass her in the corridor.

He turns and raises both his brows at her. She huffs and crosses her arms, bucking her chin at him.

"Lyris will come to terms with what happened on her own. Pushing it or handling it ourselves will make it worse." She warns but he groans.

"Lyris is too stubborn, Nimus. She was willing to bend some rules with us but this…I don't know." He admits as he leans next to her, "Admit it, Lyris won't help herself."

Nimus chews her lip and offers him an uncomfortable look. He shrugs and points to her face.

"Exactly. Look, I was thinking, after Ilum…we get lost for a few days."

"Marcos-"

"We are extremely close to Shili right now. We go from Ilum, to Shili and back to Ilum."

"Our master will disown us or even kill us. He seems…neutral but I don't want to press that."

"Then we don't tell him. Say we got lost or trapped or something. But the first chance we get, we go to the system and we kill those fuckers."

"Marcos, we don't even know what tribe she is." She says, offering him a sympathetic look.

"About that," He coughs softly and looks around for Elso, "May know of a way to get her records. We need to get that holopad our master had. It has all our information on it."

"Ok, no. We aren't stealing from him." She hisses but frowns while he grins.

"Nope. _I_ am. I'll do it while he's landing the ship. He'll be busy then. Are you going to help me or not?"

She rubs her eyes. His heart is in the right place but going to such extreme lengths for a friend is…dangerous. She looks up and offers him a small smile that instantly makes his grow stiff.

"Fine. If you won't help I-"

"If the opportunity presents itself, I will distract him for you. But that's all. And only because you have a…good tongue." She mumbles and he blushes before smiling softly.

"Well," He shifts awkwardly, "You did taste wonderful." Her cheeks turn a darker shade of green, "Could eat you all day."

"Shush." She playfully slaps his chest, "Just be careful. Going on your own is bad enough but _against_ our master makes it so much worse."

"I'll be fine." He promises, kissing her gently, "I swear."

He leans back just as she bites his tongue softly and smiles softly before almost falling over. The ship shifts and vibrates as it exits lightspeed and Marcos' anxiety hits him instantly. He reaches out and clutches Nimus tightly as she tries to calm him.

"Fuck. Fuck this. We need a fucking shifter invented."

"Shhh. Now go. Now's your chance." She instructs and he nods, quickly running through the ship.

He keeps his mind clear as he passes the cockpit and Elso as he begins landing procedures. He sinks into the second corridor just as Elso turns to face his back, rolling his eyes. _As subtle as a rancor._ He shifts on his seat, curious about the next few stages of the mission. Making sure Nimus or Lyris aren't near him, he reaches over to a control panel and deactivates the lock to his room, letting Marcos have his fun.

 _Either he disobeys me and succeeds or he disobeys me and fails. Either way, he's proving to be less of a coward than I imagined._ A tiny smile washes over his features as he heads deeper into the icy world, making sure to avoid drawing any attention. The system is crawling with Republic ships and stations and the particular cave they need to visit is no doubt covered in Jedi and troopers alike. _This may be a little more difficult than originally planned._ He checks the stealth systems and nods as he veers downwards, losing his dark ship into the thick mists of the snow world….


	10. Ilum

A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the late response. Back at university and that's taking up a lot of my time now but i will continue to try to post as often as I can.

Please review or like or whatever is the norm on here, I like to have feedback otherwise I don't know if I'm writing shit or not haha.

I also lack an editor so please forgive the odd typo.

Have fun :)

No. 10: Ilum

"Remind me why a group would be so interested in a planet full of ice, blizzards and more ice?" Nimus hums, zipping up a layered jacket.

"It's not merely ice and cold." Elso chimes as he enters the tiny armoury.

The three students turn away from putting on their protection from the cold and bow in respect. He nods softly at them each, humming softly as he adjusts the sleeve of his white coat. Marcos notices a lack of a belt and lightsaber although that could easily be due to the fact he may be hiding it elsewhere. He smiles at them as opens a small 3D map of the planet. It's not a very large world, nothing compared to, say, the capital but it's at least double the size of the moon of Nar Shaddaa. The entire surface is covered in icy mountain ranges and several deep ravines where the ice has yet to fill it that could be classed as countries due to their size. He presses a small spot near one of the mountains and presses it, allowing a red dot to appear on it.

"This is us. Now the temple is within the nearest mountain but we'll have to walk there. The entrance is towards us so we don't have to walk around the slopes, which can be a pain in this type of climate." He chuckles and Marcos pauses.

"How do you know the exact location?" He asks carefully but his master replies instantly with ease.

"I'm a Darth. This is my job." He answers, making Marcos unsure as he resumes pulling up a thick boot.

Nimus' Lekku are stuffed into a fluffy sleeve and then strapped to her back and within her jumper, clearly concerned about the cold and its effect on her. Out of everyone, she appears to be the most covered. Her jumper is white and very thick, making her frame rival Lyris'. Her boots are the same type that her fellow students were given but the smallest size. Even so, they do add several inches or so to her height. Marcos is the next most protected, being wrapped up in a hooded white jacket with thick trousers and boots. The concept of being in such a cold world isn't new to him; the trading worlds were often either extremely arid or a system like this. Only rarely did he step foot on a world that was pleasant in any sense of the word. And then there's Lyris. Her Lekku are covered in a thinner sleeve and her jacket is just an ordinary jacket, mumbling that she can tolerate this level of cold. She's been mostly silent since the night before, making Marcos' mood fouler and Nimus feel uncomfortable around the two. Even when suiting up, the air is unusually thick around them, making her want to move to a different area of the ship.

Elso continues, happy with Marcos' lack of rebuttal despite knowing he had one. Out of all his students, Marcos seems the most reluctant to say anything against someone above him. Lyris lacks a filter and Nimus doesn't want to say anything. The difference is, Marcos does want to. He just

doesn't.

"The Jedi will have sentries posted everywhere, so be careful. This will be an exercise in training the senses. When you get out there, close your eyes. _Feel_ your surroundings. Listen but not to the air and the snow. Look but not with your eyes."

He notices the blank look of his students and he sighs. He pauses for a moment and rethinks his advice.

"Just rely on the force and the rest will make sense. Trust me. But you need to learn to tune everything out. You'll struggle to pick anything up otherwise. Now get ready. We'll leave in ten minutes." He says and the human and Twi'lek nod, "If we find anything useful, we collect it. We find another useful source or person, we bring them here. Might be useful for mental training. Or use the Zeltron." He turns and heads towards the door, "Need her for something practical." He murmurs as he leaves the trio in silence.

Svena was ordered to her room and the rest of the ship was put in lockdown aside from the refresher. Elso mentioned something about her not being able to fly a ship but there's still a chance someone would try to board the vessel during their absence. The paranoia over his _beloved_ ship would almost be amusing if everyone wasn't looking like they're about to either murder someone or snap at them. Lyris returns to silently strapping some white plates to her shins. She opens her mouth to say something but Marcos offers her a warning look, making her sigh and play with a Lek as she heads towards the airlock. As she leaves, Lyris watches her back silently, something which her human companion notices. She turns to him and then looks back to her shins, tying down the armour to her leg and then heading towards the airlock. Marcos sighs and closes his eyes, stepping forward as he opens his mouth in trepidation.

"There's nothing to say." She says softly, causing his eyes to snap towards her, only to see an empty doorway.

A wave of heat flushes through him and he shakes his head, nibbling on a worn lip out of habit and frustration. He takes a movement to breathe in deeply, letting the air sink into his belly and fill it out as he waits for his body to claim down. It never comes. Only a pure, cutting hate. The urge to hurt someone makes his dig his nails into his palms to the point of blood, making him hiss as he tries to vent. He steps forward and locks the armoury as instructed, following after her as he shakes his head yet again, desperately struggling handle himself.

"It's fine. It's fine." He murmurs to himself, closing his eyes as he tries to block out the images of a screaming child. "It's fine. It's fine."

Nimus offers a shiver to the group as they stand around the lowered ramp, the viscous air slashing at any exposed skin. Lyris remains passive as usual but even she can feel the cold air cutting into her coat. Elso disapproved of the lack of warmth, commenting that her species was used to the tropics, not a blizzard world. After a few more moments Elso turns to the ramp, where he frowns at the staunching Marcos. He looks him over and feels the intense but confused emotions coming from him. Teenagers were picked as students for a reason. They're brash, hormonal and act without any care for the consequences. While training can be easier at times due to their lack of other influences, they can also be extremely stubborn and difficult to control.

He softly pokes into his mind but finds a very strong push against it. Marcos meets his gaze and doesn't even try to hide his glare or the seething hatred that is lacing his normally lighter eyes. The act is surprising to say the least for the master and he slowly retracts his reach, curious at how he was able to manage the shield. After a moment he feels the presence fade as his student's

emotions start to calm down, revealing the origin of the shield. He watches as Marcos' shoulders lower in submission and emotional exhaustion. _Better keep an eye on him after this. Could be an issue soon._ He hums softly, his eyes slowly trailing from him to the two women and then back to Marcos. Nimus clears her throat and he turns to her, not expecting her to be the one to speak up.

"Ready?" She shouts over the wind and he nods, thrusting his finger forward as he steps in that direction.

The rest of them silently follow him, some faring better in the wind than the others. Being from a mostly tropical or arid world, Lyris feels her muscles clench as the unfamiliar nature of the cold wind lashes her. Her horns are mostly numb but still can register the temperature, making her wince at the cold push of this harsh world. Korriban was much easier to adjust to. The worst was the scorching sun but that could be avoided with some clothing or shade. This…This is a new type of hell. The type that not even she could imagine being so cruel, so clingy to her bones and joints. She grimaces as her boots sink into the uneven snow, making her feet freeze just that little bit more. The wind is so fierce that you can't see ten metres in front of you. Even Elso seems to be struggling, his eyes fixed on the monitor in his hand. But then he pauses, making a closed eyed and shivering Nimus collide with him.

"THE MAP IS FROZEN!" He shouts, making Nimus contemplate sobbing.

But Elso just smiles and taps his forehead.

"WHAT WAY?" He asks.

"WHAT?" Marcos shouts back.

"WHAT WAY? USE YOUR DAMN MIND, YOU IDIOT!" He shouts back, his voice becoming raw already from the shouting.

He then puts his hands over his eyes and then repeats the action several times until the three in front of him get the message. They each sigh and close their eyes, trying to block out the savage wind cutting the insides of their ears. Elso watches them as he rubs his arms, keeping his mind blank as to focus on something other than the cold. He has a vague idea who the first person might be the first to find the location of the entrance. Behind the thick sheets of the snowy wind is a small but very deep mound. The lump of snow and rock looks unimpressive but within it are dozens of caverns and trails laced with some of the purest kyber crystals reachable. The crystals were said to be the force personified but that's merely the spiritual view of them. They're used to power and focus the ligthsaber itself, giving it life if you're feeling dramatic. The purer the crystal, the stronger the blade. The Sith moved away from collecting these centuries ago, preferring to allow for creation of synthetic, more consistent crystals. The only pure crystal one would hold would be the first one they gained during the trial, being a symbolic gesture more than anything.

Nimus frowns, struggling to keep the sounds of the icy winds from her mind. The roaring echoing into his mind. The harsh whispering snapping at her lips and Lekku. She focuses on the darkness in his sight and tries to not complain about the cold or rethink about the Lyris issue. It's hard. So many thoughts. The smallest thing can easily spin an entire mental conversation. Even the most devout monks are vulnerable to distraction from time to time. The coldness sinks into her body as it struggles to make enough body heat to operate properly. The girl lets out a deep pant and sighs loudly as she tries to enough it. Then Nimus hears another sigh. A smaller, higher pitched sigh. The lashes of the wind get softer as her body becomes numb. Her hearing canal tenses uneasily as she hears a shiver. Not feeling her legs, she slowly moves towards the sound. The presence of her peers is lost as she focuses on the terrified sound.

Elso watches her in a small level of amazement. He turns to Marcos, being the one he thought

would be the first to make a connection. It was a logical choice. He is the strongest with the force, at least at this point. He turns back to the foot prints of where Nimus has disappeared towards, watching the snow slowly fill up her tracks as she disappears into the icy sheen.

Lyris' body is at its last reserve of energy. The endless cold makes her body shake violently and she begins to cough loudly as she struggles to control herself. She rubs her arms but it fails to work. She tries it again, rubbing the jacket violently to the point of harming her hands only for nothing to happen again. She hisses out in desperation and drops to her knees, trying to warm herself even more. She tries to ignore the ice on her rear but she groans as she rubs it, feeling some her to her shock. She quickly rubs the patch of ice again and feels a warmer patch begin it. Gingerly rising to her feet again, she whimpers softly as she tries to follow the warmer patches as it softly enters her boots. After only ten seconds she vanishes, leaving the two men alone in the blizzard.

To say this wasn't the order expected would be an understatement. Elso turns to Marcos and then almost scoffs at him as he sees the boy staring straight back at him. Then his master understands why. He rubs his frozen chin and then chuckles softly, nodding to himself.

"YOU HAVE NO INTEREST IN THIS MISSION, DO YOU?" He shouts and Macros remains silent, "YOU LACK CONVICTION. IT'LL KILL YOU. WE CAN'T LIVE NORMAL LIVES, MARCOS. YOU NEED TO LEARN THAT NOW. YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO WAS PICKED BY THIS LIFE UNWILLINGLY."

The last sentence breaks Marcos' stoicism and he frowns at his master. Elso nods, not wanting to delve much further than needed. He looks back at the ship and nods.

"DEAL WITH THE TOGRUTA. IT'S A SIX HOUR FLIGHT. YOU HAVE THIRTY HOURS."

Marcos nods and bows his head in respect before walking past his master, not wanting to get any eye contact. But as he steps onto the landing ramp, Elso speaks up again.

"MARCOS. COME BACK WITH DEDICATION TO THE CAUSE OR DON'T COME BACK AT ALL." He warns and Marcos turns and after a moment of thinking, gestures to the ship he's about to take.

"YOU BETTER HOPE I FIND SOME."

They both share a small, genuine smile before Marcos turns and disappears into the ship. After a few more minutes, the ship hums loudly and the engines ignite. Elso steps back a few dozen metres and watches the ship disappear into the frozen air. He sighs and rubs his temple before pulling out his map and activating it, allowing it to guide him towards the particular entrance he marked on down.

Standing on cold, taut legs that have grown too stiff for long movement, Nimus hisses softly to herself as she follows the sobbing slowly. The blowing wind in her ears make her wince softly, trying to separate the soft sounds from the shrieking air. The area around her hasn't change one bit. The fogginess of the world, formed by a mixture of fierce winds and thick snow within that wind, make it difficult to see any change in climate. Her usually emerald cheeks have turned a soft purple, a result of her body's desperate attempt at pumping more warm blood into her freezing veins and muscles.

She coughs loudly as she stumbles forward, clutching her middle as she feels the snow under her harden. She frowns to herself in thought as she feels the wind halt when she moves to a certain area. Her curiosities are soon answered as she feels her nose wrinkle and stiffen and she pulls back. She wipes some snow off her nose as she looks forward, seeing the side of a towering mountain as it unveils itself from the thick winds. She steps backwards as she tries to looks around, not knowing how a mountain could possibly appear out of nowhere. After giving up on trying to

find logical answers, she moves to the left in an attempt to the source of the noises. But they lessen and weaken, making her turn on her heel and head along the other side. Her hands graze along the frosty side, trying to find an entrance to a cave or something as her eyes can't make anything out. The blood in her fingers slowly thicken and slow down as the temperature hits them. She ignores the sharp cold but winces when a rock almost cuts her, making her remove her fingers.

Her foot drops suddenly and she eeps as she stumbles downwards several steps, finding herself in a much darker area. The wind vanishes and the temperature evens out as a result, allowing her to stop rubbing her sides. She pulls out her lightsaber and activates it, her emerald face coated in a ruby sheen as she marches forward. She loses her footing as her body tenses, her arm reaching out to clutch a rocky wall as she hisses. The sobbing gets loud enough to hurt her and she needs a moment to handle it before continuing. The throbbing in her brain continues deeply, her teeth clenched as a result. Soon the rocky walls and ceiling are replaced by even snow and constructed blocks along with several designs she's never seen before. She hums to herself as she enters deeper into the mountain, the ominous nature of the Jedi mountain being replaced by her pure curiosity into how the Jedi commit their students to their rituals. The Sith nourished only strength and their architecture reflected that. Sharp endings. Large, colossal monuments. Images of death and overcoming it. These were the trademarks of a Sith ritual or training.

Despite only having one trial or ritual, Nimus knew enough of them to dread them. During her reading periods in the library, her desire to learn more ended up leaving her in sleepless nights and anxious days. The golden age of the Sith had them controlling thousands of worlds with millions of candidates to undergo these trials. This meant despite the lethality of the trials, thousands would emerge to serve them. But this isn't the golden ages. They'd long since passed the days where they could send their students into these trials but they refused to admit it. There's a reason the Republic had such a strong hold now. The damn Empire is too arrogant to change tactics and it's literally killing them.

Nimus hums in thought as she sees the seemingly endless corridor in front of her. The lack of anyone else following her early on tipped her off that this was an individual challenge for her. After her experience in the tomb on Korriban she is only too well acquainted with the personal nature of these tasks. She's not an idiot. She looks up and sees several images on the shadowy stone wall and inspects them, seeing a man meditating and then the same man moving a mountain with his mind. A metaphor more than anything but it still illustrates the differences between teaching styles. Nourishing verses punishing. As she thinks things over Nimus stops again, hearing the sobbing again but this time she feels soft breath on her neck. She snaps around and slashes her weapon downwards. The ruby glow reveals nothing, making her pant in confusion until she remembers the sobbing. She races forward and ignores the cracking of the joints in her legs, the coldness making them protest against such stiff movements.

She makes a left turn and stops, seeing a small room filled with jars and vessels made from clay and ceramic. Eyes slithering through them as she steadily moves forward, her head rotates to the side as she hears the gentle sound of something metal clanging along the floor. She leans over a set of steel jars and sees a lump of clothe between several of them. She lowers her weapons and, while biting her cheek, pokes it. It quickly shuffles and shifts until a smaller, blue lightsaber is thrusted upon her chin. A young Ithorian, no older than twelve, is huddled into a corner with his arm raised. The large, curved face of the alien is stiff and unemotive, a common trait amongst his species as it usually relies on their language to express emotions between different members. His robes are scorched and torn and she notices his other hand is being cradled to his lap, swollen with two fingers bent out of alignment.

Nimus lowers her weapon and steps back, raising her hand in surrender as the child still holds his true.

"I'm not going to hurt you, little one." She says softly but he doesn't respond.

She sighs and deactivates her weapon, placing it on her belt and raising both hands, waiting for him to make the next move. His large, bulging black eyes stare at her for several moments before he lowers his own weapon, using his now free hand to clutch his injured one with a whimper. Nimus kneels before him and extends her hands out, placing her fingers in a healing position as she waits. The boy watches her in confusion but sees a soft smile and a nod, slowly encouraging the impressionable padawan forward. He scoots forward and she reaches out, placing her fingers on his hand and she closes her eyes in concentration. The next several moments pass in silence as he hisses and sobs while his fingers are carefully pulled into a correct position and the considerable bruising is massaged into healing. She pulls away, allowing him to flex it carefully and give a soft ' _crrwwl'_.

"What happened, little one?" She asks softly only to watch him start sobbing again.

Her orange hands desperately claw at the warmth the snow offers, ignoring her hazardous surroundings as she crawls deeper into the cavern. Lyris sniffs loudly, trying to ignore the feeling of her bones cracking under such cold conditions. Her Lekku are shrunken slightly, a result of her fatty tissue trying to regulate warmth at emergency rates. She doesn't care that she's in the pitch black, that she could be crawling into the mouth of a dragon. She needs warmth and that's all that matters now. The snow on the ground soon hardens into a stone pavement and she finally looks up, seeing a large cavern with slabs of stone hanging from the ceiling. Each of them are cut into different species with different positions. Some are holding lightsabers valiantly while others are mediating or somewhere between them. She pays little attention to them, however, as she crosses an uneven path along the wall, not wanting to misplace a foot and fall downwards to the seemingly bottomless pit next to her. It takes a minute or two for her to cross it and once she does she immediately draws her weapon. An elderly human woman is on her back, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as a burnt patch is cut into her torso.

Lyris leans down, inspecting the wound carefully. It's at least a few days old. The skin is dehydrated and the cheeks and eyes are a sunken ditch. The skin and flesh are a charcoal and burned but it lacks any heat. The ice would normally preserve bodies better but that's only if the climate encases the body completely. She leans back and deactivates her weapon, forming a steely expression as she moves past two young children, fallen behind their master. The wounds are different. A human boy has his neck turned to an unnatural angle while a female Wookie has what appears to be a crushed chest. It's swollen and despite the thick fur, a sickly bruising can be seen.

Lyris stops for a moment and sighs, murmuring to herself and after a moment of thinking she leans over them. Reaching out, she closes their eyes and then stands up, offering them a more honourable death. She contemplates moving them when the air becomes thick and hot. She turns around and holds her weapon up high, trying to use the light to peer out in front of her. Nothing. Lyris leans forward and glares into the dark cavern, the sounds of the wind long since passed.

"Who's there?" She shouts only to have silence greet her.

Leaning down again, she thinks about moving the bodies to somewhere that isn't in the middle of a corridor when her body stiffens, feeling something wrong. She rises and begins running, ignoring the darkness and the fact she has no idea what she's running towards. She takes a sharp turn and then her stomach tugs at her. Instinctively, she ducks and rolls her body around, missing a blaster aimed at her head. Reaching forward, her fingers wrap around a gloved wrist as her lightsaber is brought to a neck. The armoured figure stiffens, their silver mask staring at Lyris as she glares back. Her hand tightens around the wrist, making them release a masculine grunt and the gun.

"And you are?" She asks with a growl while placing the blaster under her foot and she's greeted with a scoff.

"Someone trying to get the fuck out of here." He answers, nodding to his legs.

One of them is caked in dried red and leaning at an awkward angle. She looks back up to him and tilts her head to the side, refusing to move the weapon. His silver plates on his chest is burnt and bent out of alignment. His leg arm is burnt as well with his belt being severed by something sharp. He thrusts a finger down at his leg.

"Me and the last guy in here didn't get on so well."

"I think you'll find I'm worse."

She adds a sharp amount of pressure onto his wrist and behind his helmet a shout is released and then a loud laugh.

"I doubt that." He hisses, "Last guy…kinda insane." He winces as she squeezes it again.

"Why are you here, hunter?"

He takes a moment to handle the pain in his joint and then rolls his helmet to the side.

"Paid…to find…Jedi stuff. Sith love them. Mostly to destroy them…but what do I care?" He hisses, writhing under her grip.

"How did you get passed the Jedi and Republic guards?" She asks and he offers a pained chuckle.

"Well that's the thing that allured me…There were _none._ Soldiers all had necks snapped and stuff. Bodies a few days old. Ah…Found entrance. Entered. Found bodies. And found some monk."

"Did they kill the children?"

He thinks for a moment and then shakes his head again, trying to concentrate despite the sheer pain flowing through his arm.

"If he was, he was aimlessly pacing the halls for a week. Found him in a chamber collecting something two days ago."

"What was it?"

"Never saw." He replies with a hiss, "Look, I'm trying here but my wrist…"

She stares at his visor for another moment and then throws his arm down, making him hiss and then sigh as he rubs his arm in relief. She grabs his weapon with the force and places it on her belt, watching him groan.

"That isn't nee-"

"Is he still here?" She cuts in and he shakes his head, sighing in defeat.

"No, thank Creator. He left after he shoved a damn knife through my leg."

She gives him another thorough gaze and then looks back down to his unwounded leg.

"Is that leg stable?"

"Yes. Just about the only thi-"

"Good." She grunts, grabbing his arm and shoving him forward.

Elso releases an uneasy look as he enters the mountain, his legs carefully avoiding the platoon of dead Republic men. None of them have been killed with a lightsaber but that's what's making him uneasy. A rogue Jedi or Sith usually follow trends or habits that are easy to predict if you can research or examine them long enough. But these men have necks snapped, severe but uneven burns cover them and a foul stench about them. The fact they're days old has nothing to do with it either. No, these deaths weren't natural. Not that a lightsaber to a throat is natural but still. Something's off.

He enters the stone walls and keeps a hand close on his hilt, not knowing what's in front of him. Despite decades of experience, this place is known for throwing off masters. Even the most capable are weak to the force. For a brief moment he feels grateful that he sent Marcos off the planet and even regrets leaving the other two here. There's no point in taking on students if they're going to die before their first trial. _At this point Sala will be the better master and she can't teach a rancor to eat._ He glides through the temple, trying to focus on the presence of two females deep within. He pauses, closing his eyes. _Neither of them are alone. Shit!_ He takes a faster pace and runs down a frosty corridor only to halt. The room was originally a Jedi reliquary, filled with hundreds of artefacts and scrolls from their history. Now thousands of pieces of shattered history are thrown everywhere in what appears to be a fit of rage. Scrolls have been burnt. The statues of their past masters have had their heads torn off. One of the boxes has been torn open, the relic that was once resting there now missing. He strokes the torn metal as he thinks about the missing ring until something in front of him distracts him. The walls are coated in red, a single word written once on each of them. _Heresy._

He steps back and his mouth gapes slightly, his mind racing to hundreds of different locations as he tries to comprehend who could do this. A Sith would destroy without aim, without bias. This is hatred. _Not just Sith relics. All relics._ He frowns to himself as he kneels, his black gloves sinking into the once pale ice. Pale ice that's coated red. After a second he pulls it up, revealing a lightsaber that has been _snapped_ in half. The crystal is undamaged but judging from the weak power levels and the tiny hilt, he can guess how old the owner was. He gingerly gets up, closing his eyes as he realises what is no doubt near him. He slowly forces himself into the next snowy passage and his suspicions are confirmed. A young child, ten maybe, is resting with his face in the ice, a savage burn mark on his back.

Elso murmurs a soft prayer as he reaches down, picking the boy up and placing him on the table in the reliquary. His closes the scared boy's eyes and places his arms by his side, a finishing note being added as Elso rests his broken weapon on his chest. _There's no power or glory in killing children._ He spits mentally. He seethes internally as he jogs forward, slowly letting himself become more desperate in his search for his students. A left turn and a series of spiral stairs later leave him in a large chamber. The sight of large blue and green crystal, the size of large spears, brings back a level of nostalgia that he chooses to ignore. _The less ventured in that path, the better_. Within ten minutes he moves past it, not looking at the beautiful images of the snow and ice being pierced by the stunning kyber. They give off an unnatural glow in an almost soothing way. They're so unlike the synthetic crystal in his own weapon now. So peaceful and clam and-

Spinning around, his weapon is activated in his extended arm, the ruby glow revealing emerald skin and a surprised expression. He sees Nimus hold up her hands and give him an off look, clearly not enjoying having his weapon thrust into her face. He prepares to lower it when he sees movement behind her. A young male Ithorian coos behind her and tries to be her shadow as Elso scans him.

"Your habit of collecting pets is concerning." He warns as he removes his weapon, "I'm glad you're safe." He admits softly, "This has escalated."

"His…" She grows uncomfortable, "The students…""His…" She grows uncomfortable, "The students…"

"Their master is by the holocron room."

They turn to see Lyris shoving a masked and limping man forward, his groans tipping off their presence. Elso notices how wounded he is but then sighs as he sees Lyris in good shape. Even better, she's bullying people again. She's almost back to normal.

"Am I the only one who appreciates solitude?" He grunts and the hunter speaks up.

"I agree. I'm actually on the Imperial pay roll so-"

"He fought someone who may have come back to finish the job. He says the guy left two days ago." Lyris finishes and Elso's face darkens.

The hunter sighs but nods, rubbing his hands together. The best are able to turn anything into an opportunity.

"So the way I see it is that-"

"We'll take him on the ship and I'll teach you to read his mind for answers." Elso grunts and the hunter chuckles.

"Yeah, look, I-"

A loud crack is heard as Elso wraps some force around his fist and belts the hunter's face, knocking him on his back instantly. The visor is cracked and the metal around it is bent to a horrid angle. Nimus' mouth gapes and even Lyris seems unsettled.

"I'm not in the fucking mood for this." He mutters as he massages his bruised fingers. "You," He nods to the boy, "Did you see the man?"

The Ithorian tries to hide behind Nimus again but she slowly moves to the side, gently placing her hand on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. The scarred boy looks around but sees no way to escape. His round orbs look upwards and the man and boy exchange a silent exchange. Elso swiftly but carefully scans the boy's mind, seeing a familiar crest and the sounds of young, horrific screaming. He leaves the boy's mind but nudges it softly, making the boy collapse into a slumber. Nimus instantly catches him and places him carefully in the ground.

"The cult." Elso explains. "They destroyed the library and reliquary."

"They're hunting Jedi relics, too. They're just targeting force users then." Nimus surmises.

"No shit." Lyris grunts but offers a tiny shadow of smile. "They came back, or at least one of them did. They must've sent someone back while they pressed onto Nar Shaddaa."

"There was a relic here." Elso murmurs, "It belonged to the Jedi who banished a Sith warlord who almost conquered the galaxy. He wore a ring that belonged to Marka Ragnos. It's missing."

"Why is Ragnos so important? He's a powerful Sith but there's been dozens." Lyris scoffs but Elso remains silent, thinking about the question.

"Either way, he needs to get to safety." Nimus says, softly poking the boy with her toe.

"I doubt we could just go up to the Republic base here. Not even Marcos wo…" Both of their expressions freeze and then she lets out a strained breath as it hits her, "I take it he's taking his ti-"

"He's dealing with a personal issue and will be here in just over a day. Believe me," he walks towards her and then looks back at the boy, "we have time to drop him off."

Nimus places some robes under the Ithorian's curved head, being careful not to wake him. Lyris' loud grunting makes that fair easier said than done, however. She mutters to herself as she straps the hunter to a chair that Elso had gathered from the reliquary, making sure his limbs were locked together. The leather being used to tie him down was gained from a scorched set of robes found next to the chair. His helmet rests behind him, revealing short, cropped blonde hair with dark eyes and a nasty cut on his chin. Elso stands next to the Togruta and grunts at Nimus, making her stand beside them. He backhands the hunter, making him gasp and blink rapidly as he looks around.

"Wha…Where…What?"

"Shut up." Elso snaps, "You're a test dummy, nothing more." He says coldly, making his students uneasy around him.

Both of them are used to his more laid back, wise yet not cruel. This is just harsh and raw displeasure. The lack of warmth in his eyes is arguably the most uncomfortable thing. Nimus looks back at the startled human and Elso clears his throat again.

"Lyris. You first. You need the most teaching with the force."

She ignores the blatant jab at her abilities and moves next to him. She closes her mind off to the sounds of the panicked man in front of them.

"Concentrate on your breathing." He whispers, "Feel your nose intake the air slowly, your lung filling. Hold it and then let it go. Let it flow from your mouth. Feel it warm your lips. The soft hiss of breathing. The gentle feeling it leaves in your body. Repeat it until you focus on nothing else."

She breathes in deeply, her chest and shoulders rising as her lungs fill up. It takes a few moments to get into a soft rhythm and to ignore the awkward feeling as the others watch her. The cold soon fades and then there's only her breathing. Nothing else. No eyes watching her. No panicked man in front of her. No nightmares from earlier. Just the breathing. Elso smiles softly.

"Well done. Now, focus onto his mind."

The man tries to move again but one last glare from Elso stops him. Lyris' thoughts soon drown out as she focuses on her breathing, waiting for something to happen. Then words enter her mind. Soft whispers, grunts, gentle laughs, sobs. Every type of emotion slowly sinking into her mind.

"Focus on the past two days." He adds, "Let everything else go."

She tries to ignore the soft sentences but it's difficult. There's so many of them, some much louder than others. The occasional image burns into her eyes but they flicker away as fast as they come. Lyris winces slightly, her body rocking softly. The sentences get louder with more flickering and she starts to lose her focus. The sentences fade out completely and then the sound of Elso sighing enters her ears.

"Try again."

"I don't-"

"Again." He says, crossing his arms with a soft shrug.

She nods obediently and refocuses on her breathing, slowly drowning out the sounds of her surroundings. It takes a few more long moments until her thoughts subside and she's occupied by mere emptiness again. The gentle sound of air leaving her nose is chased away by soft voices and flickering images. She quickly focuses on anything other than the image in her mind, allowing it to quickly fade and move onto the next. But the progress soon crumples down again. Dozens of images fly into her senses and overwhelm her, making her stumble backwards and massage her

Lekku softly.

"Again."

She nods once more and steps back into her original position, drowning out the sounds and thoughts and entering his once more. On his part, he looks dazed but still in control of his senses. Every once in a while he'll wince or frown but he doesn't dare to move away, not with Elso's hand so close to a lightsaber. Nimus studies the exchange between her fellow student and the hunter before turning to the crystals around her, fascinated. She lingers off and Elso watches her for a moment until he decides to redirect his attention back to Lyris. She wades through the images carefully, not looking at any one of them for particularly long until she finds one of interest.

Looking down at legs as they steps over Republic soldiers, their bodies snapped. It shifts into the image of hands savaging through a destroyed library and then trying to find someone useful on a dead Jedi master. She watches as the hands places several lightsabers into a box filled with other valuable loot such a Jedi holocron that's been damaged and a tiny statue. The hands shut the box and then the image snaps upwards to see a man wearing Cult robes marching forward.

Lyris cancels the memory just as the man is overwhelmed and getting a shattered beam impaled into his thigh. She shakes her head and rubs her eyes, ignoring the seemingly comatose man in front of him. He's completely fine, Elso made sure of that. He's too valuable a resource to lose so he may have guided Lyris a tad bit to avoid her snapping his mind in half. He smiles at his student softly and pats her shoulder as she tries to regain a sense of normality.

"You did well."

"The man...Cult..." She pants.

"I know. He was trying to find something they'd forgotten probably." He explains and she looks at him in confusion, "You didn't focus on the image of him. Not at the beginning. If you had, you'd have seen what he was holding. It was a catalogue of what the temple's meant to hold. Nimus," He turns to the Twi'lek and she stuffs something in her jacket, "Your turn."

"But I-"

"She needs to learn as well." Elso says, "Besides, we need to kill time. See if you can find anything that points to where they would be going next."

"Well, If they're hunting Marka Ragnos artefacts.." Nimus starts but hesitates and it takes Elso a moment to guess what she's implying.

"No, I don't think they're _suicidal._ Korriban has a fleet orbiting it."

 _"_ And they've probably already gone there." Lyris grunts, "Unless if you can think of another major artefact that they haven't hunted down yet?"

Elso grunts but thinks things over as Nimus attempts her first try at entering someone's mind. Elso's head wavers from side to side. Rumours have already started about something sneaking onto Korriban but he rolled his eyes at that report. _Maybe if they actually guarded the tombs..._ Marka Ragnos' tomb was on Korriban and most relics that belonged to him were stored there. Aside from the odd trinket and...

 _"Shit._ " He whimpers, cupping his head in his hands as he groans loudly, bending downwards.

"What's wrong?"

"We're heading to deeper into Republic space. A lot deeper." He groans, massaging his eyes.

"Where? How deep?" Lyris asks, irritated by his vagueness.

"Mandalore."


	11. Shili

A/N: A/N: Hey yall, sorry for the late responses recently. Back at university and that's taking up a lot of my time now. And that is life.

Thank you to those who have favourited and/or are following this. The fact you're sticking around means a lot and hopefully I can continue to entertain you.

Please review or like or whatever is the norm on here, I like to have feedback. Or something. I don't know anymore to be honest.

This chapter hopefully adds some character to Marcos and shows his slow descent into empathy. He's over life screwing him over at this point and if you're that young and already thinking that, it's only going to get worse.

I also lack an editor so please forgive the odd typo.

Have fun :)

No. 11: Shili

The ramp releases a loud _clang_ as it joins back into the ship, the floor vibrating as the joints lock together. The feeling of being closed in starts to slowly hit Marcos again but he bites his already raw lips to try to release the pressure. _At least the damn cold is gone_ he thinks bitterly as he heads through the corridors. He takes a left and passes through several doors, reaching the end of the living quarters. Punching in several buttons he saw Elso press on the control panel, he turns on his heel and heads towards the cockpit as the door slides up. It only takes several seconds for light feet to waddle behind him but to his surprise she remains silent. _Must have a history of being taught not to ask questions_. He reaches the front pilots seat and looks at the controls either side of him on the arm rests. He presses the main control HUB and sees several options and monitors activate, all of which mean nothing to him. Sighing and rubbing his head, he already hates this even more if that was even possible.

"Can you fly a damn ship?" He drawls softly and looks up to the uncomfortable looking Zeltron, "I'll take that as a no." He sighs and then he looks down, muttering. "Was hoping Elso was wrong about you but damn it. He's always right."

Then the comment about him not being the only nonconsenting Sith hits him, making him pause as he thinks the words over slowly. Elso has never been one to say more than needed. He's friendly at times but mostly to the point, especially when training. It makes no sense that he would openly divulge his life story to a group he's known for a week. _An eventful week it has been_ he scoffs. He presses another option and sees the landing procedures Nimus toyed with last time and winces softly, carefully pressing it. The ship hums and creaks. Marcos goes to press the engine controls only for a dark purple-pink finger to press something different.

"Vu…Vu vere going to redivect energy ven we haven't visen." She explains, her head lowered in submission.

He eyes her, barely understanding anything from her accent.

"What?" He gasps and she pauses, trying to think of how to explain.

"Ve need lift vup bevore going forvards." She says, motioning upwards and then forwards with her hands.

"And how the hell do I activate the initial burners? I'm used to crappy trading ships, not elite Sith vessels." He grunts, hotly pressing every option to see what controls were available to pick.

"Vat panel." She says meekly.

He slowly swings around to the left panel and almost breaks something. The very first option, in correlation to the controls from the right, is the lift up off protocol. He huffs and leans back, making sure _both_ panels are within his line of sight so he can see what he's doing. He presses it and feels the entire ship hum and then vibrate as the dozen little engines at the base of the ship ignite, allowing it to rise in the air. He tenses up and presses into the leather deeply, whispering to himself.

"You're ok. You're ok." He repeats over and over again, watching as they rise above the snowy mountains.

He swallows nothing with a dry throat, reaching forward as he presses the next option. He activates the engines and this time the ship doesn't creak, slowly gaining speed as they push through the sky and into the atmosphere. The frosty white of the sky soon washes away into a dark and empty black as Marcos tries to focus on the ship, pressing the controls after carefully seeing every option. After the empty casket of space surrounds them he reaches into his coat, pulling out a datapad. With shaking fingers he finds Shili's coordinates and presses them into the right panel, letting the computers do the rest as the darkness turns blue. He clears his throat and coughs as they enter hyperspace, rising on shaky legs and passing the Zeltron.

"Tha…Thank you." He murmurs as he swiftly heads to the most open room in the ship.

He enters the storage room and collapses on the wall, his hands shaking as he feels his heart start to burn, to squeeze to tightly and shift uncomfortably. He looks up, clenching at the steel floor as the patterns on the walls become larger. The lines become snakes, slithering around him as they get thicker, stronger, angrier. The patterns shift and grow as the walls stiffen and shrink around him. The pressure in his heart makes him grasp at it, wincing as the dry heaving begins. The breathing becomes hard, almost impossible. The strain of breathing is too much when your upper body is contorted with the urge to vomit out nothingness. The dry leather in his mouth rubs unnaturally, making the panic worse as he remembers all those times he was thrown in the escape pods as a punishment. Hair is torn from his head as he tries to drown out the visions. Endless screams that were never heard, smashing of hands into the window until blood formed in the knuckles. The inescapable rooms, the thick air, the col…

"Vot vis vong?"

His head shoots up, blood red eyes littered with tears lingering on her form. She takes a step back, looking at the scratch marks on his face and the blood forming on his cut fingertips. He tries to clear his throat but it's simply too dry for that motion.

"I…I…"

"Don't like small spaces?" She says, pronouncing each word carefully so he can understand.

He breathes in deeply, nodding for a moment while his bludging and manic eyes look at the ground. He crawls forward for a second and then manages to get to his knees, allowing her to be the taller one for once.

"Yeah…Something like that." He admits, still feeling his body shake every few seconds.

"Vu need velief?" She says softly.

He looks up with a tired and disbelieving look and then sighs, shaking his head.

"Look, Suta…Svena. You seem really nice and I'm sorry you're a slave. Believe me, I am. I hate life too." She looks at him with confusion and he gets to his point, "I'm not one for sexual relief. You are very beautiful and a slave, so you were probably taught and experienced in this, but no. I'm…I don't know. This conversation is the ramblings of a madman." He chuckles bitterly as he finally gets up, "I'll see if I can convince Elso to let you go somewhere. He's seems decent."

He exits the room and heads towards his living quarters, leaving a very confused Zeltron.

With a loud vibe, the ship exits hyperspace. The blue aura disburses around the surface and pushes them in front of a lush, pale orange world. The door to the cockpit opens and a shaking human enters the room. His eyes are bloodshot and his shirt is covered in sweat and scratch marks from his nails. He staggers forward, slumping on the pilot's seat and looking at the large world in front of him. The world is clearly a forest world, with orange and light red leaves and pale grass. Several large oceans dot the world with a light blue colour with a few thick and long rivers scarring the land. Little feet pad behind him as he pulls up the datapad from Elso's room. _The Sarcos region._ He waits for the planetary navigation system to power up while Svena merely awaits his orders, her head lowered obediently.

"When…I'm gone…look after…the ship." He pants, desperate to be off the ship, "I should be gone only…a few hours I guess." He says, starting to wonder why the hell he's even here.

 _Lyris. Kill the elders. Help her. Ah gods but she'll probably hate me for this. I don't even know her damn culture. Didn't even ask her first. I just rushed in…Creators, I acted like she would. So now I'm on an unknown world, about to…Make I should take the Chief alive. Let Lyris take her revenge. Let her be the one in charge of him. Her own life._ He closes his eyes and leans his head back, _What a damn luxury that would be. Making choices for yourself._

"Ves master." She replies softly.

He nods in appreciation as the computer shows the regions of the planet. Selecting the Sarcos region and placing it in the ships navigation systems, he feels the ship move again. He gets up and clutches the seat tightly, still not sure of what he's even doing here.

Cool. The air is surprisingly gentle and cool for a normally tropical and jungle world. The trees are extremely thick and stumpy with a bone white colour but also spurt out into dozens of thin and wirily branches with orange and red leaves. The grass is a pale white colour, with hundreds of types of plants and flowers of a multitude of colour littering the ground and trees. Even the sky is a pale yellow. In short, the entire world looks like it was vomited up by the dreams of a young child. Marcos quickly abandons his jacket, finding his padded shirt being more suited for this environment. Judging from Lyris' skin and the colours present on this world, it's clear they evolved with a strong ability at camouflage. Aside from the flowers and a few plants, the entire colour range can be found on her skin.

He waits for the ramp to ascend into the ship before marching forward, feeling the weak soil shallow and allow his boots to sink into the ground with every step. After only a few moments Marcos decides he hates every part of the damned planet. He huffs to himself before hearing a murderous shriek, the hideous shrilling sound bouncing off the thick trees around him. A four winged bird with a bladed beak stares at him, what a appears to be a rodent under its large talons. They stare at each other for a moment before the bird returns to devouring its prize, the blade on the underside of the beak slashing the flesh open. _Can see why Lyris is such a bitch. Grew up on a planet like this._ He almost smiles but it fades as he presses forward. The tribe is anywhere within this region, with no specific reference point having been provided. _Might as well pace until I bump into one._ His feet come to a halt, a better idea forming in his tired mind. He closes his eyes and relaxes his body despite the muscles tensing every once in a while. _In…and out. In…and out._

It takes a decent while until all he can focus on is his breathing. The sounds of the birds and wildlife, the wind, Lyris and the others. It's a tad more than difficult expected to block it all out. But after reigning it back in, always allowing the flow of his breathing to sink into his mind, darkness surrounds his mind. _Left._

He turns on his heel and walks swiftly through the thick shrubs, jumping over a serpent creature that hisses and then slides burrows into the dirt again. He watches it uneasily, not being found of things he can't see, before moving again. Stomach tightening a moment later, he turns around only for his leg to be wrapped in a tight coil. He hisses at the tight pressure on his thigh and watches as the serpent creature rips the rest of its body up from the dirt. Eight fangs glisten as the pale venom seeps down from them. It hurls itself forward but gurgles, flopping on the ground as the rest of its body slackens. Marcos unclenches his hand and steps back so he may continue his journey, not really interested in snakes.

Then his stomach tightens again. He huffs irritably and stares at the ground, waiting for the next creature to lunge at him from below.

"UNGH!"

He gasps as something behind him wraps around his chest and arms, squeezing tightening and threatening to break bone. He shouts loudly as the bronze snake coils around him, the head sliding around to look him in the eye. He groans in agony as tries to force the snake's head to snap like the last one but a loud shriek enters the air. His eyes bulge and water as he feels eight thick fangs pierce his forearm, instantly weakening it. Looking to his side, the sight of a second snake latched onto his arm makes him wanted to heave. He begins to pant, feeling a burning in his arm. The veins slowly turn a foul purple and throb with every movement or breath. Swallowing, he turns back to the larger one and focusses on his hilt. Getting a lock on it in these circumstances is near impossible, the act of pulling into his hand no longer an option. But he does focus on merely pressing something.

The serpent hisses in agony as a red glow severs several coils of its body, making the snake collapse into a bundle of several pieces in front of him. Using his newfound freedom of movement, he uses his free hand to grab his lightsaber and decapitate the remaining creature. Pulling the head and fangs off of his arm with a scream, he staggers back and inspects his limb. All the veins are swollen and a sickly shade of purple and he winces as he touches it. The entire muscle tenses up and he watches his fingers spasm as a result. He pulls out his comm link and accesses the ship's frequency.

"Sv…Svena?" He asks, frowning at the large amount of static, "No…Svena? SVENA?"

Nothing. _It's been only ten minutes. TEN MINUTES._ He turns around and tries to see the path where he came, even resorting to try to find his tracks. But he lacks any training of this. He was raised in space and no one at the Academy taught him this so how the hell would he know? After several attempts at the healing technique failing because of his single hand and the fact he barely had any time to properly learn it unlike Nimus. Even Lyris could do it better than him at this point. With a desperate gasp, he tightens his eyes down sharply, letting out a loud scream.

"Fuck. FUCK! FUUUCCKKK!"

He opens his eyes as he tries to look around, reaching out with the force to try and find Svena but it's like reaching out with numb arms. The ability to use the force soon weakens to the point where panic starts to hit him again. As though being on a starship, his breathing becomes short and strain. The pressure in his head increases, pushing the veins of his temple out while the blood in his eyes begin to show in the milky orb. He leans against a tree, panting as the venom seeps into the muscles in his chest. He clutches his heart agony, trails of spit lingering on his chin as he froths and gags. He leans over and vomits violently, his entire body shuddering heavily.

"You look like you've seen better days."

The sound of that particular voice makes him stop. Spitting the rest of the foul taste away, he leans back and with widening eyes staggers back into a tree. A human with a torn red leather jacket and black travelling pants is staring at him with a smile. His hair is brown and wavy with a rough stubble encasing his chin. A friendly warmth surrounds his eyes as Marcos stares into them with horror. Then understanding. And then sadness and embitterment.

"You're…an illusion."

"Um, I don't think so." The man chuckles with a shrug, "I'm touching my body and I feel it, so I must be." He adds, patting his forearms for emphasis.

Marcos looks at the ground and returns to give a tired, dark look at the man before stumbling to a series of blush bushes.

"Go fuck yourself."

He walks several metres forward, each one of them causing his legs to ache and throb painfully. The sun suddenly makes his skin shiny with sweat despite the cold wind and the heat flushes through everywhere. Taking off his shirt, he ties it around his midsection to lessen the heat but it does little. Hot and clammy, he takes the small steel bottle attached to his belt and drink some and pours a little on his chest to try and cool off.

"Hmm. Sexy. Ladies beware." The man says dramatically, kneeling and spraying his arms as if presenting Marcos at a show.

Marcos rolls his eyes and places the bottle back on his belt, preferring to move through the jungle than listen to him. A three eyed creature hanging by its furry blue tail on a branch coos at the Sith flailing its two small arms at him threateningly until Marcos steps off his territory. The creatures coos in content only to start cooing again as flock of birds land and rest above it. A herd of large, rotund lizards waddle next to him, wheezing as they munch on a particular orange plant. Marcos steps by them but almost collapses on a leg in front of them, his legs wavering. The man tatters and grimaces, leaning down at the panting teen.

"Well now, you're not very Sith like are you?"

"What…What is this?" Marcos asks, almost letting the desperation expose itself, "Are you trying to make me feel guilt?" He asks with a fervent nod, "Because I do!" He shouts.

The man clicks his tongue and steps back, offering a smile as he opens his arms with a shrug.

"Well what's this? Mar-Mar finally admitting he was in the wrong that day? Not the Sith?" The man cups his mouth, "What a shock?"

The words make the distorted teen weep in anguish and collapse on his rear, rubbing his sweaty face. Exhaustion and hatred lingering on his mind, he gives the man a weak and softened look as he tries to understand.

"What is this?"

The man stops smiling and offers him a stern look, slowly placing one foot perfectly in front of the other. He points one hand forward, the index finger shooting up towards the sky.

"You know what this is. We took you in off those streets. We gave you food, a purpose, _family_." He kneels in front of the panting Sith and Macros shudders as he feels a cold finger on his cheek, "And what did you do?" He whispers, "We died because of you. How ungrateful. We _died_ because of you."

Marcos begins shaking his head, remembering all the mental conversations he's had with himself for the past two years.

"I had…no choice. Yes…My fault. But context…"

"But context?" The man scoffs before shouting, "You used your damned powers! We told you never to do it."

"M'lea. She was…The crate…falling…" He replies desperately, still shaking his head.

"One of us dying would've been better than all of us."

"No…You understood…You-"

"I clearly was too easy on you. If I'd known what it would lead to…" He tries off, looking at the sobbing Marcos.

He violently shakes his head, his cheeks slippery as he angrily throws his hand down.

"If I'd known!" He spits hotly.

The man remains silent for a few moments and then offers him a cool smile. Placing his hand on Marcos' shoulder, he tilts his head to the side.

"If only you did."

And with that he pushes Marcos, allowing the boy to roughly roll down the slope behind the log. Shouts and gasps echo throughout the grassy hill as he tumbles and feels the venom reach his entire body. He groans and sits up again, rubbing body until he looks up. The land is covered in a dark blue grass with thick, pale trees surrounding him, blocking out the sun. Several mounds rest upon the grass, figures covered in shadows. He reaches out the closest one and pulls it down, making him stiffen as he sees the body roll in front of him. A collection of humans, all carrying saber marks, enter Marcos' mind as he recognises each person in front of him.

His hand begins to tremble as he chokes back a sob, his face scrunching up as he strokes a dirtied hair strand away from the beautiful woman's face. Her lifeless eyes pierce the ground far harder than any weapon ever could and far deeper into his mind than the training of any teacher ever tried. His forehead touches her as he finally lets out the sob.

"I'm…so sorry." He admits, stroking her cold cheek.

 _GZZZZZSSSJJKKK_!

He looks up and see a black figure holding a red lightsaber, hovering towards a kneeling man in a red leather jacket.

"NO!"

He pushes himself up and grimaces as he forces his aching body into a run. He ignites his own lightsaber and throws it at the being. The lightsaber sinks through the being and just flies straight through it, the being still throw slashing down.

"NO!" Marcos repeats, halting as the lightsaber hacks at the chest of the man.

The being disburses into darkness and Marcos resumes his run towards the person. Sliding next to him, he supports him with his arm and looks at the burning slash at his chest. The wounded man coughs and gurgles, turning to Marcos and revealing his face. The smile from earlier now gone, the man from earlier stares at him blankly as the teen sobs with him in his arms.

"I never…I never wanted any of this."

The man reaches up and strokes Marcos' face. Marcos closes his eyes and turns his face away, feeling uncomfortable being touch by him again.

"J'son. Forgive me." He whispers, his head lowered.

He feels the pressure and weight in his arms slowly recede and he opens his eyes in confusion. Seeing darkness and open air in front of him, he hastily looks around and sees nothing. No bodies. No burns. No J'son. After taking a moment to calm down, he closes his eyes and lowers his chin.

"Forgive me."

His stomach tightens and that's followed by the gentle sound of something pressing against a piece of wood. Releasing a grunt, he quickly pushes his weak body up and looks up to see the night sky. _Wha…How long was I having…How long was I seeing him?_ The line of thought is quickly brushed away by the image of something leaping towards him, a large spear in their hand with the tip pointed at him. He quickly reaches up and uses the force to form a shield around him, blocking the blow from him. He reaches up with his weakened hand as the being tumbles to the ground but shouts as a tight robe wraps around it and yanks it to his side. He looks and see a second Togruta trying to pull him towards him and he bites his teeth. He tries to find where his lightsaber landed but lacks any time as a third hunter hurls a sling at his legs. He leaps up and avoids it, using the momentum to spin around and force push the second Togruta. His hand now free, he lifts up a small branches and throws it at them but they roll along the ground and throw a type of web at his hands. The sicky substance fuses them together as he feels another rope around his ankle. He grunts as he is pulled to the ground and dragged along the grass. He bucks upwards and tries to free himself but a blunt blow to his cheek makes darkness sink into his mind.

"Uhn."

Gentle grass is roughly scrapped around his cheek, forming a very unpleasant sensation to wake up to. With a frown, Marcos cracks open an eye and see the evening sky. A beautiful black is spotted with thousands of stars and nebulae, momentarily distracting him from the fact his hands are bound to a branch. He looks around and sees two large Togruta carry his bound form, none of them looking at him. _Probably more hiding or further ahead._ He notices his wrist has been patched with a large red leaf around the bite wounds. His veins have already returned to normal but the aching and sickness in his stomach still remains. After a brief moment of trying not to vomit he is violently tossed to the ground where someone pulls of the branch out from his binds. The still bound Sith wiggles and grunts as he moves to his rear and looks around. A dozen or so domes made from carving out those pale trees surround him. Stacks and racks of clothes and food from a line to the left where a large group of the tribe are looking at him. Most of them are middle aged, with none of them being old. The lack of the elderly makes him frown to himself while he watches a younger female scolding some children into a hut and then making sure they stay there. He notices the little ones, about four in total, trying to sneak peeks from a window that's clearly too tall for them.

Resting on a decorated and patterned tree stump directly in front of him is an enormous male. His horns are double Lyris', nearing well over a metre long and very thick. His skin tone is a light red, possibly a different family line to Lyris' more orange appearance. His bear chest reveals sculpted muscle with three thick scars running along his left side. His Lekku are decorated with several chains and resting in his lap is a large wooden staff. Marcos looks either side of him, seeing three rather beautiful but older women…with bare chests. One of them has a lighter shade of red by none of them are quite the orange Lyris is. _Still…Can see where she gets her breasts from._ His eyes continue to wander as one of the hunters hands the leader the item he's looking for.

Marcos groans as he sees his lightsaber being inspected very closely and the elder mutters something to the hunter. The man shakes his head and what is said makes the elder _seethe_. The sudden hatred flowing off of him is almost overpowering for the student but he tries to recover and actually read any thoughts that may have shot off. Nothing. _The Togruta might have experience dealing with force users. Shit._ The elder gets up and storms towards him, the nearly three metre tall being towering over the sitting teen. Marcos clears his throat, suddenly questioning all of this again very quickly. A series of snarls and hisses escapes the Togruta and it takes a second for Macros to realise that's their language.

"Ah…Common? Basic? A little Huttese? OOF!"

Spit exits his mouth as his cheek erupts in pain. He shakes his grimacing head and licks each tooth, making sure they're all there. He stares back up at the death staring elder and tries to figure out what to do. For a brief while he tries to summon or activate his weapon like last time but the traces of venom still in his body makes that boarderline impossible.

"Why are you here?" The man demands, "Have you not taken enough?"

He thrusts his finger to one of the three scars. Marcos nods and thinks his words over carefully.

"I'm here for a friend."

The answer is confusing to say the least. Murmurs escape the collected tribesmen and the leader thinks as well.

"What friend? We are a peaceful people. Secluded. We have contact with the stars. None of us ha…" Then it hits him.

His expression seemingly turns darker, his thick fingers threatening to snap the staff in two. Even the three wives take a few silent steps back, no doubt used to handling his tirades. A dark, low chuckle escapes him.

"The child of fire. Huh." He turns to the amassed crowds, "Did I not say we should not have taken her in? Did I say this to our last leader?" He shakes his head, "My family, this is my sin. I should have risen against Uncle sooner. Then we would not have taken _it."_

"It?" Marcos shakes his head, looking at the Togruta in disbelief, "She was a child. You tortured her!" He spits.

"We were purifying the taint from her village." He snaps back before turning once more to his people, "A village we should have burned completely. Not even the child should have been spared that day. They dared steal our lands, our totems, our pride. Now their last offspring has sent another crimson demon to challenge us. Kill us. Rob us of our children."

"Oh what a horror." Marcos says sarcastically, "The society that sacked a village and tortured the only child now is scared for their kids. What honour you have." He laughs passionlessly.

"Where is the honour in using magic of devils and weapons of the stars against us?" He counters, "We fed her, taught her-"

"And hurt her and forbad simple things like happiness, pleasures, partners. You know, emotionally important things."

A small laugh escapes the tribal leader, as if this is trivial to him.

"So that is what this is for. The boy wishes to mate."

A series of chuckles escapes a few men and women and Marcos raises an irked brow.

"Wouldn't go _that_ far." He mutters while the elder smirks.

"You are a child. Leave. Take whatever remanence of that… _thing_ we raised into the hells with you as well."

The nearest hunter cuts the robe away from his limbs and he quickly massages his joints, careful not to remove the leaf on his bite marks. Gingerly standing up, he offers the leader a long stare and then digs his feet into the ground. _Seventeen men, fourteen women. Sixteen are armed. Weapon racks are close to those that aren't. No children concerningly close. I'm unarmed. Can barely use the force. Surrounded._ He notices that his lightsaber hasn't been offered back either. The leader merely holds it tightly, clearly reluctant to hand it back.

"You're not giving that back, are you?"

Silence answers him. He chews his lip and tries to focus on the weapon but it fails. The most he can achieve is a little wobble that the leader notices. He huffs and smirks at the boy and straps it to his belt.

"I'm not leaving." Marcos says softly and the leader lets out a bark of a laugh.

"You are one. We are many. The poison lingers in your soul. Your magic has been banished for days. How do you think we handle _it_ for so long? It was a useful potion for her to drink."

"You really are a prick." Marcos notes and rolls his shoulders, "You want honour? One on one. You and me. Sound fun?"

The elder eyes him up, trying to see the trap, if there is one. But being challenged so bluntly in front of one's entire tribe leaves little room for choice in the matter. He tosses his belt and staff to one of the tribesmen and the surrounding members remove themselves, huddling in punches to watch.

"You have no weapon. No magic. This is death."

Marcos remains silent, merely focussing on how the hell he can survive this, let alone win it. The Togruta charges, the large bulk of his frame lacking any finesse or style as he throws his weight at the boy. Marcos slides to the side but an elbow clips his ear, making him stumble backwards while two horns are thrown downwards at him. Using both his hands, even the weakened one, he tries to hold them up but several thick fists land into his stomach. He coughs and stumbles back, barely having enough time to duck and avoid the next punch. The Togruta' strikes are relentless, swift and unforgiving. The Sith manages to block a few of them, slapping away a few punches and then following with a roll to the side but it's always the same. Always on the defensive. He tries to strike a Lek but the fist is caught. Marcos silently screams as his fingers are tightly held and slowly twisted as the leader chuckles. Clearing his throat, Marcos pushes what little control over the force he has into a foot. Leaping up several inches on one foot, he uses the momentum to spin the other leg and spray it along the face of the Togruta.

He stumbles back, grimacing and then glaring as Marcos cracks his fingers and shakes his aching hand. _Least the damn force is coming back._ He offers his hand one last shake and runs at the Togruta, sliding between his thick legs and trying to punch the underside of a knee. The impact does next to nothing. The muscle is simply too thick. Feeling thick hands on his shoulders, he is quickly thrown along the ground, grunting loudly as he is roughly rolled along the grass. Wincing at the new cuts and friction burns, he gingerly gets up only to shout as a knee is implanted into his kidney. Coughing violently, he collapses and spits several times, the last dollop containing blood. He rolls on his side, avoiding a foot on his skull, and manages to return to his feet. He throws several weak strikes to the left and then tries to land a much stronger blow to the right but the leader easily sidesteps him. The resulting kick to his rear is both humiliating and painful.

"Too slow. Too dependant on magic. No skills." He mocks as Marcos wipes some dirt off his face.

Feeling frustration at the situation seep into his mind and cloud his judgement, he rushes forward. He manages to avoid the first punch and even leap up, clocking a strike to the left cheek with a loud grunt. He quickly follows with a knee to the stomach but the Togruta uses the vulnerable position to grab a knee. Marcos screams as a dense fist smashes into the thigh, severely bruising it and making it throb significantly. He thrashes and throws two hits at the face but the alien leans down, making the horns take the blows. Pain erupts in the human's knuckles and he pulls his weight back, trying to get the right angle for a kick to the Lek with his better leg. Instead, he's merely dropped and give another blow to the head as a reward for the effort. He licks his teeth again and thankfully has all his teeth.

He tries his best to ignore the throbbing and sheer pain emanating from his body but that is an impossible task. The leader slowly steps towards him, basking in the glow of his dominating of a Sith. It's not every day that your entire tribe can pay witness to such power. That being said, the lack of skill and even threat from the boy makes it a rather dull affair. One that is losing interest from the Togruta. He gets within a metre of Macros who instantly launches a barrage of strikes at the chest and then tries a surprise strike on the Lekku. The tactic fails a second time, resulting a strong blow to the stomach and, as he falls to his knees, a backhand across his cheek.

He spits out a large amount of blood as the Togruta steps behind him, smiling triumphantly. His rough hands clutch Marcos' neck and chin, preparing to make a final move to end this embarrassing brawl. Marcos stiffens his body and bites his lip, bracing his elbow for the next move. He stares directly forward as he slams his elbow backwards, pressing a long Lek between the arm and the Togruta's leg. The leader stiffens and stumbles back, the pain in his brain muscles making his vision blurry. His limbs fail to respond to his commands within the correct time and Marcos uses it as an opportunity to get his bearings.

He gets up and slowly stumbles towards the leader, biting down on his teeth tightly as he clenches his sore fingers, making one of them crack. With a small swing, he lands three swift jabs to the face and leans backwards, driving a much stronger blow to the right cheek. The leader, slowly coming out of his disorientation, mumbles and winces as he receives the blows, not really knowing what's happening. He manages to awkwardly knock Marcos' hand away and growls as he lands a punch into Marcos' chin. The Sith winces, staggering back on numb legs but manages to step forwards again. He lazily tries to tackle the being but two fists slam him into the ground. The effort makes the Togruta lose balanced, however, and he collapses next to him. Marcos, seeing an opportunity, straddles him chest and hastily starts beating the Togruta's face.

The muscles of the alien meeting his skinny knuckles makes them erupt in pain, a sharp, cutting pain as they start to bleed. But after the tenth strike they start to numb, blood trail down from them as he holds the writhing man down with his free hand. The leader soon stops struggling, the impact to his Lek and now his face simply overpowering his nerves. The feeling of power soon fades within the Sith, merely self-resentment and bitterness towards this entire situation forming. With a final, half hearted strike, he slumps off him and almost passes out to the side. Taking a moment to gather his breath with shaking intakes, he digs his fingers into the tight dirt and pushes his weak body up.

"One…strike…Lek…Advantage." The Togruta splatters, wheezing as his face starts to swell.

Marcos says nothing, instead preferring to look at the hunter that has his lightsaber. The crowd seems uncertain and even scared at the prospect that such a leader could be beaten by a child. All because of a simple elbow to the Lek at the right time. Macros isn't stupid or arrogant. The blow was literally the only thing that saved him. If he hadn't made it or if the enemy was human he'd be dead by now. He takes a final look at the crowd, noticing the wives are nowhere to be seen. The sound of coughing draws his attention behind him again.

"The girl…She lacked…this strength."

"Maybe…because…you didn't teach…it."

The leader laughs, irking him somewhat.

"And…that has led you here. To kill me. She…was a demon. She…had magic. A sin. I have only…protected my people...from the unknown."

That comment makes Marcos stop. _To be fair, a non spacing faring species would view this as magic, either for good or bad. And the unknown is dangerous. Dangerous to those you love._ The thought tears Marcos in two for a moment before thinking back to Lyris. With a tired sigh, he forces the lightsaber into his hand as he drops to his knees beside him.

"To be honest," He pants, activating his weapon, "I just don't give a fuck."

And with that, a ruby saber impales the Togruta. He lets out a strained, silent gasp and then collapses into the grass. Marcos closes his eyes, just wanting to be off this planet, and then opens them, seeing the beads and chains on his horns. He collects them in his hand and pulls them into his pocket, pushing himself up again. He sees that the entire tribe is armed and aimed at him. He pulls out his map and, without looking at them again, tries to figure out where his ship is.

Svena nervously paces the sections of the ship she's allowed to walk on. It's not much but it's still a rarity considering the other masters she's had. Mostly of them had her do chore work when she was little and chain her into a tiny room when she was done. Even after puberty, when her body was more developed, they mostly had her clean up after them. It wasn't that her owners weren't attracted to her, but the concept of mating with a Zeltron comes with a mix of desire and dread. Myths surrounding the pheromone controlling species were vast and common, ranging from small tales to insane tales of them sucking out your soul during intercourse. As such, her owners somehow managed to bite back against temptation out of fear that she would control their minds or something. Only something as blindly lustful as a Hutt would try it with a Zeltron but even that Hutt didn't want her. One of the most beautiful races in the galaxy and yet everyone is too scared to mate with them. There's a reason why so many Zeltron loved the power they had over sexuality.

The vibration of the ship makes her freeze and turn as the ramp is lowered and then receded. After a few more minutes the sound of heavy boots echo through the ship until the source finally arrives. Shirtless, battered, cut and severed bruised, Marcos limps towards the pilots seat, his lightsaber and the chains in his and Lyris' rooms respectively. He gives a stiff nod to Svena as she tries to understand where he's been for the last day and how he got so bruised. _At this rate I'll be late_ he silently seethes as he sits down. He activates the start up sequence again while Svena disappears into the room Nimus offered her, collecting something that most rooms had on standby. The ship starts to ascend into the evening sky and for once, Marcos' fear of being closed in doesn't hit him. He's simply too tired for that.

Soft feet pad behind him again and he slowly looks up to see Svena placing a small medical kit next to him. Rather than argue, he merely closes his eyes as she cleans out his cuts and scratches, wincing softly as he tries to fall asleep.


	12. Training of the Mind and Body

A/N: Hey I'm back. Yay? I don't know. So here's another character. More training and relationship focussed more than anything. Next chapter is when we get deep into the plot stuff. Thanks to those reading, it means a lot and is surprising so many are sticking around.

Feel free to toss a review or follow or whatnot.

I lack an editor so please forgive me.

Have fun

No.12: Training in both mind and body

The ship vibrates softly as the ramp clamps into the base of the vessel once more, allowing it to be ready for a swift exit. It isn't long before three sets of footprints echo into the cockpit, making the current two occupants slowly turn, one rather sluggishly.

"You're late by two hours," A voice calls out from a hallway, "No matter. We had to make a little detour to a Republic outpost. Well, more getting to the edge and then dumping the Ithorian and comatose hunter. Nimus has a habit of taking in new pet…"

Elso stops, an eyebrow raised as he sees his battered and bruised apprentice leaning uncomfortably forward in order to relieve back pressure. Most of his arms have been bandaged and several pads have been attacked to his left cheek, ribs and back. His knuckles are swollen considerably and his fingers are once again supported by tiny splints. At this point his fingers should be powder they've been broken so many times in such a small time. His offers his master a blank and resigned look but Elso doesn't seem to be worried about that. His eyes are glued to something behind Marcos, holding an uncomfortable amount of conviction in them. A loud gasp makes Marcos look to Elso's side and Nimus' concerned frown makes him shrug a little, a soft yet tired smile forming for a second. Even Lyris, whose appearance is only for a split second, manages to give him a faint look of concern before retreating away from the cockpit into her room.

"Are…Are you shirtless on my seat?" Elso whispers, his voice wavering considerably.

"What happened? Where were you?" Nimus asks as she steps towards him, tossing her fluffy clothes to the side.

"Just something that ne-"

"What the actual fuck Marcos?"

"-eded to be handled." He explains as he gets up, gingerly waddling towards his room, "We're good now." He says, leaving Nimus more confused than anything.

Her green face scrunches up and then decides not to press the issue. _These things usually come out by themselves._

"Speak for yourself." Elso scoffs, "You're cleaning it. I won't have teenage scent on it."

"Have Svena-"

"She's not the issue nor the cause!" He snaps as his injured student limps into the living rooms, grumpy that his prized ship is now tainted, "Anything I need to know about?" He turns to the Zeltron who instantly stiffens under his gaze.

Marcos' head almost collides with a set of thick horns as he veers into the living corridor. He stumbles back and frowns, seeing a very disgruntled and violent looking Lyris. It doesn't take him too long to work out why. In her shaking hand are the chains and emblems from the Elder. He looks to the side of the wall, avoiding her eyes, as he swallows with a tightening throat. She takes his silence as more fuel for her fire.

"You…You had no right…" She whispers, her breath shaking and raw.

He merely closes his eyes, not seeing any defence for himself that was logical or that she would buy. Shouting he can handle. It's when she's soft and acting like her actual age that scares him. She breathes deeply through her nose and then roughly shoves him into the wall, making him gasp in agony.

"Why?" She asks the grimacing and leaning human, "WHY?"

"Because he had no right to do what he did to you." He admits as he tries to straighten himself.

"It was my life." She retorts hotly, "My issues. You had no reason to get involved. Was it the sex? Did you want my body so much you'd defile my culture and how my species handles issues like this?"

"You were doing _nothing."_ He spits back coldly, making her stop entirely, "You…You were content letting him inside your nightmares, to dictate what you did lightyears ago, years afterwards. You were willing to suffer against someone who deserved…" He stops himself, trying to calm himself down.

Lyris slowly shakes her head and allows a rare moment of vulnerability show. She knows what the rest of the sentence would have ended with. _Someone who deserved to die a very painful death._

"But that was _my_ choice. I was the one who decided how to act in respect to my people's ways. When we want justice, we fight ourselves." She hisses, suddenly getting louder again, "We don't cower as a champion fights for us."

Marcos nods softly, feeling his mood all but crash to the lowest possible levels. If murdering a defenceless man in the name of avenging a friend couldn't get you down, having said friend nail you for it sure will.

"What possessed you?" She asks and he hesitates, feeling uncomfortable and suddenly very claustrophobic as she steps closer.

As she takes another step he tries to slide to the side but a strong hand holds him to the wall. Tightening her grip on his shoulder, her large eyes stare into his darker ones, watching as they weak and close.

"You're my friend." He admits with a shrug and a desperate look, "You have been since the academy. And no, I didn't do it because of the sex ban. I'm not a very sexual person, ask Svena." He frowns, remembering the incident a few days ago.

The explanation confuses her, then leave her for a loss on how to respond and then a flush of anger fills her as she swiftly turns and closes her door behind her. He sighs as he leans his head back, eyes flicking to the presence he's been feeling for the last half minute.

"I warned you." Nimus says softly and he nods, not knowing what to say, "Give her time. She needs to…evaluate where you stand now."

"Great. Diplomacy amongst students. Who would've guessed?" He drawls flatly and slowly and Nimus smiles, deciding to change the topic into a less miserable path.

"So…" She starts, bopping her head softly as she looks at him, "Friends?"

He rolls his eyes.

"I hate you." He groans as he heads to his room.

"But we're friends." She repeats, trying not to smirk.

"Shut up and heal me." He grunts, sitting on his bed as she takes her turn to roll her eyes.

"How about I show you how so you stop asking me?"

Placing her back against the furthest wall, Lyris glares at the door. Her room is as messy as it usually is, not really seeing the point in cleaning when there are more important things to focus like training. But now is not one of those times. She draws her legs into a mediative pose and tries to hold it, blocking out all her emotion and thoughts. The result is a piece of training equipment being snapped in half using the force. She huffs and lowers the tools she didn't know she was lifting and tries it again. The constant thoughts of her childhood and a possible future of vengeance being robbed from her make it impossible. A constant seething, unsettling feeling in her stomach makes her crave someone or something to hurt. Something to break under. Usually at times like this she'd just train but for some reason she'd rather not go out there again. Not run the risk of seeing him. _And here we are, sunken into hiding like a rat in my room._ Her hands clench tightly, the muscles of her stomach tensing as her breathing remains uneven and forced while internally feeling several objects levitate in the air around her.

The sound of someone banging on her door snaps her out of it.

" _For the love of the creators, enough. It's giving me a headache."_ Elso shouts, " _Come on. Rest and we'll train for a few days."_ She hears, barely being able to hear the next part, " _Not like we have any leads…"_

Nimus eeps softly as she lowers her head, narrowly missing a vibroblade to the Lek. Elso rolls his eyes, looking at his student from the corner of the training room. He tatters for a moment, watching as she rolls and does an awkward dodge, before returning to his reading.

"Move your legs more. Make them loose." He says as she continues her agility training, managing to make another poor dodge, "LOOSER!"

Lyris is in the middle of her training, hovering upside down with her arms and Lekku hanging down by her horns. Several drops of sweat drop to the ground as her body struggles to hold both her own body and the several random pieces of gear she was order to lift. The burning in both her mind and muscles is almost enough to make her pass out at this point. Several hours of this nightmare has made her vision blurred and mouth slammed shut tightly. Marcos is at the fourth corner of the room, being ordered to take a slightly more academic lesson. That being how to operate machinery. Given his injuries and his stronger abilities with the force, another direction was needed. And from his lack of success at repairing a simple heater generator, it was very needed. After the third failed attempt, he tosses his tools down and turns to see Elso still reading.

"How am I mea-"

"You're half correct." He interrupts and Marcos looks back at the crumpled mess.

"And which is which?" He grunts.

"How, without reading or me telling you, could you find out?"

"If I knew…WE WOULDN'T BE HAVING THIS CONVERSATION." He mutters and winces, feeling one of the tools being tossed at his back,

"Manners." Elso tatters, lowering his arm, "Nimus, I swear to the gods if you don't become more flexible…"

The past three days were filled with nothing but this. Gruelling and cruel training sessions, each aimed at increasing the weakest part of their abilities. Nimus was stuck with sparring, Lyris with the force and Marcos with the technical side of things. He was originally given a large generator but after a close call with it going into meltdown he was given a far smaller object. Elso, meanwhile, busied himself with trying to work out where the next attack could take place. He could list a strong amount of Jedi sites off the top of his head but accessing them or knowing if they've already been attacked is the hard part. That and if there was anything related to Ragnos is still up in the air. He taps his stylus against his lips, humming as he eyes a site near the Republic capital, not really wanting to try a suicide mission this early in his life. _I could send the kids though…_

NImus hisses as she performs a textbook roll, making Elso smile to himself at her improvement but reminds himself that it's only the tenth technique amongst _hundreds._ He allows himself to watch as the training droid follows the motions. Thrusting at her and then swinging downwards, providing her with a narrow chance for a roll and pretend slash at its back. So far, she's only been getting to the rolling part. The slash…There's room for improvement. She walks back to her starting point and huffs for a moment and then steps towards the machine. It thrusts forward and the Twi'lek knocks it back and then rolls as it slashes down in retaliation, ignoring her burning muscles. She stumbles back and then silently moves back to her original position, repeating the process all over again.

Lyris is facing a far less physical but equally exhausting challenge. The key is to clear your mind and focus, allowing the force to flow through you. Yet being upside down and feeling your body constantly try to fly down is a rather large distraction. She closes her eyes and tries to focus on her breathing in an attempt to let her muscles relax but her mind simply isn't trained enough. The rushed nature of the Sith academy meant that the last three generations of graduates were stuck with the basics but not more important lessons. Focus was one of the key things that was decided to be forgotten for the sake of military training and the like. Even when they did train with focus, it simply wasn't deep enough. A fact Lyris and Elso are becoming all the more familiar with. After a few more moments she finally crumples, toppling to her shoulder with a hiss. The items all drop together in bundles around the floor.

"Good to see our educational system is still shit." Elso hums, "Again."

She glares at him but performs a handstand and then slowly pushes her body up with the force. Once she gets into the right position, the rest of the objects begin to hover again. The sounds of a disgruntled Marcos threaten to distract her, however. _How am I…There's no blue prints. I was taught to work on ships. Duct maintenance, light repairs. Janitor stuff. Not actually engineering. It's not I worked with one or two of these…_ He immediately goes silent, gets up and exits the room.

"Bout time." Elso whispers as he writes something down on a starchart.

Within another three minutes he returns, another heat generator in his hands. Elso subtly watches him flop down and begin to carefully pull apart the machine, looking at the differences between his work and the operational one. His teacher thinks for a moment before relenting and getting up. Sith masters weren't often involved directly in teaching their students as it often gave them a window for them to be killed. Lustful and bloodthirsty students tended to be common amongst the order based on killing for promotions. Odd how so many got killed in a system like that. He sits down next to his frustrated student, who ignores him as he is shocked by a cable.

"No," He says, taking a prod and gesturing to three sockets, "Wrong order. You're overpowering the mainframe. You need to make the power even so it can get from the battery to the heating matrix without exploding or zapping beforehand. That being said, which order do you think it should go in?" He asks and Marcos looks at the state of the device and where everything is pulled in, trying to work out where it could be overloading from.

"…and so this conduit regulates it?" Marcos asks, looking at the last loose part of the machine.

The last three hours were spent with nothing but trying to understand every single part of the machine, meaning he had to dissemble it. After carefully explaining what every part was, Elso turned silent, only commenting when he was asked or when Marcos was about to make it explode. To be fair to the student, that only happened once this time.

"Uh huh." Elso yawns.

Marcos plugs the conduit into the processor and then carefully closes the casing. He turns it right way up and gingerly presses the button, ready to form a shield around them if needed. The glass flickers for a moment until they are basked in a red, warm glow. Elso lets off a small, tired smile while feeling a tiny level of pride in his student.

"You can use it to warm your comatose friends." He scoffs, gesturing behind him with his thumb.

Lyris and Nimus have long since been at their prime. The Togruta, a normally hulking and prideful woman, is now a sweat covered being, weakly trying to carve objects into a small rock. The exercise is much like the one of the Academy but much smaller, focussed on more refined details and control. After lifting herself for an hour, Elso decided to change her task to another area. Whenever she broke or scarred the rock or did something that wasn't a copy of the image in front of her, she was told to start again. That was thirty rocks ago. She had abandoned wondering where he even got them when her mind started to erupt in a large headache.

Nimus has a very similar situation occurring to her. She finally managed to strike the machine which meant she got to rest…for one minute. Her next task was a simply defence tactic. Copy the series of blocking techniques shown in the holocron Elso gave her but with every successful block, the machine would get faster. And then start to randomise attack patterns, meaning she had to quickly memorise all of them. The welts and minor burn marks of her body are a testimony to how cruel Elso can be at times.

Said master claps his hands, gaining their depleted attention.

"Shower and rest. Tonight we'll work on your political knowledge. One needs charisma in this life, no?" He chuckles, watching the glare of Lyris as she limps out, "Someone get the Zeltron to clean up in here?"

She almost collapses but notices the others behind her. Putting on a brave face, she forces her legs to walk normally, the sheer pain from the burning almost driving her to insanity as she heads to her room.

"Nice to see you didn't blow up a ship." Nimus snorts, making Marcos chuckle.

"I'll have you know, I was a very good ship assistant."

"Oh, a planet ship? It can't have been a starship. They run on _power._ " She snickers and he frowns.

"I hate you." He remarks dryly as he enters his room.

He tosses his shirt to the ground and looks at the grime and soot and oil on his hands, wincing. Grabbing his only towel and a fresh set of clothes, he exits and heads into the refresher. Where two other people are…and all of them are glaring. The already small refresher can barely accommodate them as the human squeezes into the inevitable argument. Nimus smiles forcefully and then gestures to the door, almost hitting Marcos while doing so.

"I believe I deserve it the most so…" She pauses, gesturing at the others again.

Seeing the inevitable screaming match and being too tired for it, Marcos sighs and turns with a face of just being over it.

"I'll go last. I don't care." He says flatly.

Nimus and Lyris, on the other hand, seem far more determined to go first.

"Limited hot water. This isn't a luxury ship." Lyris grunts. "I have the most to clean."

"And I'm smaller and will take quicker, hence I'll go." Nimus smirks.

"She's got a po-"

"Shut up!"

"Shut up!"

"This is why I have no social confidence." Marcos groans, sitting on the edge on the room.

The refresher is merely a single shower stall, big enough to _maybe_ sit and stretch in it. But not if you're Lyris, her legs are far too long for that. The water is kept in through a glass wall and recycled and cleaned through the ship's water processing systems. However, that, along with all resources on the ship, is limited. Meaning one shower a day and one had to be very short. A cabinet of cleaning products lies to the left and a toilet is to the right with a sink and mirror near it. Aside from that, the room is very empty and sterile. _It even lacks a damn towel rack._ Marcos huffs. _My old ship had one and that was a freighter for crying out loud._

Lyris would normally just beat her but her muscles and mind force her to be more passive than usual. Her foe is in the same category, not that she would actually start a fist fight with the larger, more aggressive woman. The Togruta pauses for a moment and then throws her towel, rather roughly, at Marcos' head. He frowns as he pulls it off his face, looking at the girl and then feeling extremely uncomfortable as she takes off her training shirt. His head is in his hand within moments, groaning into it. Nimus, put off by the display, steps back and thus allows Lyris the space needed to enter the shower stall first. Trying to put on the appearance of a smug winner, a sense of nervousness and even embarrassment circles in the Togruta's tummy. She quickly covers her bust and tilts her torso to the side in a not so subtle attempt at modesty. Her eyes give a swift glance at Marcos and, noticing his apparent lack of interest, makes her feel a twitch of insecurity. Not knowing how to handle it, her glare returns and she focusses it on the Twi'lek. Nimus' cheeks maintain their ripened lime shade although she did notice the reaction to Marcos' lack of one.

"Why couldn't we just make a shower schedule?" Marcos mutters, still not looking up from his hands.

"So…Showing your breasts makes you the winner, huh?" Nimus snips, still flushed and focussing on Lyris' eyes.

"Apparently." Marcos groans.

"Now," A seemingly shy yet irate Lyris begins, still clinging her arms around her exposure, "If you could leave and let me have my shower?"

Marcos immediately gets up and goes to head to the door, the fact he didn't look at Lyris not going unnoticed by either of them. Nimus tosses her a smirk as she gestures to him, poking her tongue out as she turns and follows him. The glass above the sink cracks.

"…east wash my hands."

Nimus turns to see Marcos walking away and quickly follows him, nudging the taller human.

"So…Not interested after all?" She hums meekly.

"What?" He grunts, knowing where this is going.

"She was upset you didn't even look. Is it the horns or the orange or-"

He grimaces and stops, holding his hand out.

"Look, I…Ah…" He grimaces again, "Very shy." He leans in as if he's going to say more but Nimus quickly releases it's him _cringing_.

"Wow." She chuckles, "You…You weren't acting that night. Was…Was my vagina the _first_ you've seen?" She asks, a little _too_ loudly.

He quickly clamps his hand over her mouth and glare at her before looking around to make sure Elso isn't around. The vibrations of her soft giggles is felt on his palm and he lets go once it finishes, his cheeks bright red.

"I thought you were joking or just really awkward."

"Awkward?" He asks in disbelief, "The second youngest person in my life until a last year was thirty. I had no contact with other kids, let alone _sexual partners._ How was I…I mean…I barely know how to…" He lets out a frustrated, embarrassed and nervous sigh as he holds out his arms and clenches his hurt hands.

A genuine smile forms as she watches the flustered human rant incoherently and grunt at the pain from his hands, a rose creeping along his soft cheeks again. She gets up on her toes and pecks his lips, silencing him.

"It's ok. None of us are sex royalty. Just…don't be so blunt to the girl whose entire tribe told her that her body was disgusting and shameful." She nods, chewing her lip thoughtfully.

He sighs and nods with her, thinking the situation over. _I was kinda…blunt. Damn it. She's the last person that knows how to handle emotions and social interaction as well. Ah gods. Why? Why is this always so painful? Dealing with people. With women. God, I'm gonna hate this. No. Yes. Fine._ _Might as well let any remaining self-respect die for this._ He turns once more and heads down to the refresher, much to Nimus' concern.

"Ah. I meant just say she's pretty once in a while." He ignores her, making her slightly panicky, "Marcos, she's _very_ aggressive when it comes to her privacy. She won-"

He opens the door, the sounds of drops of water smashing into the tiled floor hitting his ears. The smell and warmth of steam caress him as it sinks out into the rest of the ship, allowing an orange and white figure to appear. She instantly turns to her side, hand on her groin and arm across her breasts, suddenly feeling very exposed.

"I think you have a fantastic body." He grunts and she frowns in confusion, having no idea what in the hell is happening, "I think you have a fantastic body."

Several seconds of silence pass and then she looks at a very embarrassed Nimus. Her confused and shocked face returns to Marcos and he shrugs meekly, also having no idea what's happening.

"AND?" She shrieks, not seeing any sane reason to this.

"Um…I…don't really…know. I enjoyed…Ah…I would enjoy…"

"This is painful." Nimus murmurs, talking the role of cynicism and dryness off Marcos for once.

"Don't be insecure with m-us. With us." He says, nodding very awkwardly and then his eyes widen, "I think your horns are massive. I mean, the size of those men…Pfft. They had large muscles…and spears…and poisons…to overcompensate. I mean…Wow. Don't you agree Nimus? Massive horns?"

She once more turns to a shy Nimus and then to Marcos, disbelief all over her face.

"Ah…yes?" Nimus squeaks, almost hiding behind the human's taller frame.

"I'm…Can I shower? Please?" She asks desperately.

"Ah yep. Of course. Nice seeing you." He says, quickly exiting with nod alongside Nimus.

"You're a fucking idiot." Nimus sighs but shrugs, "But that probably helped her. Or made it worse. In a way, anything is better than silence?" She asks and Marcos huffs, waiting for his turn to clean up.

The startled and confused Togruta turns off the water, staring at the wet tiles as she tries to work out what the hell just happened.

Tossing his towel in the dirty clothes pile in the corner of his room, Marcos sits down and carefully removes the splints on his fingers with the force, frowning to himself. _Should've taken them off before the shower. Now there's water in the padding._ He winces as they slide off and clenches them down slowly. The bruising has gotten a lot better due to the feeling technique but since Nimus was firm on him being the one to heal himself, his body and learning has a long way to go. He opens a datapad with the force and hovers it in front of him, selecting another force technique while clenching his fingers carefully. Since the girls had a practical, yet disastrous, lesson in manipulating the mind Marcos' stomach has been uneasy. He's used to being ahead of the curb in _one_ field in life, he doesn't need that taken away from him. An old male Sith pureblood appears and begins an aggressive rant about the technique and how it's ' _immeasurable brilliant at turning enemies against themselves'_. A yawn escapes his mouth.

His head twitches slightly as he feels someone outside his door and it opens, the sounds of Nimus loudly and eagerly talking to Svena filling his ears. He doesn't turn around and hears it shut, making the room feel very uncomfortable. He turns off the holocron and tilts his head to the side.

"How are the hands healing?" Lyris asks softly.

"I'm not a good healer like Nimus." He chuckles.

"Yes. Well, she's busy discussing Lekku buffering with the Zeltron. Apparently that can end her shyness."

"Might get her a buff for her birthday then." He jokes and she shrugs, sitting next to him on the bed and he sighs. "I…acted without asking-"

"Yes, you did." She confirms, gruffly, but her tone relents, "But…I know why felt you needed to do what you did. So," She chews her cheek for a moment, "thank you."

And silence. Marcos, not knowing how to respond, smiles and then looks down. _First time you've actually thanked me._ He winces as his hands start to shake and thus agitate his bruising. Lyris carefully pulls one into her lap and gently brushes her thumb over his swollen knuckles. He winces and almost jerks them back but she begins to carefully massage them and ease the tightness of his hand, allowing the blood to flood more easily. After a few moments she traces a finger with her own and lightly strokes it. The initial pain is uncomfortable and a very blunt, overpowering pressure against his bones. She notices his expression and eases her ministrations slightly. The pain soon ebbs and he closes his eyes, releasing a rumble in his chest. A very deep, vibrating sound that makes Lyris suddenly shift her legs and clench slightly. She thinks for a moment, looking at his soft and peaceful expression. And then she leans forward.

Marcos' eyes open instantly as warm, gentle lips softly kiss and trace the vein in his neck. She shifts forward, holding the back of his head as she sucks and carefully drags her teeth along his skin, his body tensing and relaxing as a result. She watches his mouth twitch and eyes glaze over under her lips, making her almost moan herself. _Good boy._ She bites it back, however, and remains silent as she traces her glossy tongue over his skin, watching the human react to such a sensitive area being manipulated. She then stiffens, feeling a warm, gentle palm cup her left breast.

"FUCK!"

He spasms in pain as she clenches his hand tightly, immediately out of reaction. Her eyes widen in surprise and then forces herself to glare at him.

"What the hell?" He asks, cupping his throwing fingers.

"You…You touched me."

"NO SHIT." He exclaims, wincing sharply as he looks back down to his digits.

The door opens and a red glow enters the room followed by an emerald figure. Eyeing the situation, particularly the kiss and bite marks on his neck and a surprisingly flushed Lyris, Nimus deactivates her weapon and steps back.

"Um…" She points to his swollen hand and then Lyris.

"Apparently cupping is a mortal sin." He explains sarcastically and Lyris' glare turns genuine.

Nimus sighs, turning to Lyris.

"You, play nice. And you," She turns to Marcos, "Give her warning next time."

"Yes, mum." He groans, rolling his shoulder back and then flopping back on the bed, "The one time I thought you could be gentle."

"I can be very gentle." Lyris almost shouts and Nimus scoffs.

"Clearly."

"Shut up, whore." She counters, suddenly feeling very exposed and trapped between the two of them.

"Again, she's a virgin." He chuckles, rubbing his eyes.

 _And the mood is gone. One breast cupping is all that it takes. Amazing._ Nimus, instead of taking the bait, closes the door behind her and smirks as she prowls towards the human. Eyes cold once again, Lyris watches her as she sits on her knees next to him. She lightly strokes his chest, feeling a level of lean muscle forming out of his stalkish figure. She tugs off his shirt and kisses his stomach, biting his bellybutton playfully.

"Why…does everyone… _bite_?" He moans, feeling his libido quickly reform.

His body tenses and seems to slightly lift to the direct of Nimus' dark green lips, desperately craving more affection. Lyris almost smirks at the weakness of his needs but then frowns when she sees it's not her making him moan.

"Humans." She mutters, sounding strangely playful.

Playful enough for Nimus to actually pause what she's doing and look up at the Togruta. Lyris leans down and kisses his nipple softly and then nips it softly, smiling at his sharp intake of breath. She notices Nimus stopping herself and then leans up, staring at the emerald Twi'lek. Nimus offers her a curious gaze that widens when Lyris bites her lower lip slowly, tracing the plump skin with her teeth. Her friend's breathing stops as she tries to regain focus and then she leans into the kiss more, allowing herself to slide a small amount of her pink tongue across Lyris' lips. The Togruta threatens to moan again and then tenses, feeling a second pair of hands caress her back and shirt. Her skin flushes and then pulls on Nimus' robe, tugging it open. Cool air caresses warm skin and the girl lets off a minor shiver as her top half is exposed. Dark emerald nipples harden under the touch of the air and Lyris feels a groan escape her throat. While her own breasts are larger, the perky, darker breasts make her mouth water.

She leans down and captures one of them in her mouth, slowly dragging the fat of her tongue along the flesh of the breast. Nimus whines, closing her eyes and tilting her head back as the larger girl pulls her into her lap. She teases the nipple, flicking it with the tip of her tongue and smirking as the girl shudders until she suckles it softly. Marcos, woeful at the prospect of moving yet again, rolls and ends up behind Nimus. Leaning forward, he kisses the back of her smooth head and then licks up a Lek again, knowing the reaction. Within a second the girl squeals and shudders as she clenches her thighs together instantly. She lets out a series of deep pants as Lyris lies her down, tugging at her pants. After some reluctant help from the human, she manages to remove them, revealing dark purple underwear with a darker spot in the centre.

"Hmm. Did the Twi'lek make a mess?" Lyris scoffs but without her usual malice, "Hmm. Yes, she did." She purrs softly, cupping the wet material and feeling how warm it is.

Nimus gasps and bucks into her hand, gyrating her hips desperately as an uneasy pressure builds. Marcos leans down, coating her breasts and neck in soft kisses, licks and bites before cupping her cheek and kissing her slowly. She moans into his mouth and they carefully explore each other's tongue, still not used to this. After several moments of squeezing and feeling Nimus through her underwear, she pulls at the band and yanks them down. Dark green lips glistening with moisture are quickly hidden as Nimus, feeling exposed, clenches her thighs together. With a huff and an eyeroll, Lyris immediately pulls them apart again, not in the mood for waiting. Nimus squirms and tries to resist the exposure but a deep growl from the larger woman makes her relax and let Lyris open her. She examines her folds carefully, seeing how tightly folded they are and the darker shades of green being hidden within. After a moment of thinking she sighs, leaning in and giving in to trying something new again.

Nimus gasps sharply into Marcos' mouth and pulls away, rolling her head back as she feels something warm and wet slowly slither and massage its way into her core. The sensation of stroking something like this with her tongue wasn't how she'd pictured it. _Odd texture. Sweet. Hmm._ Lyris presses further, feeling how the moisture stick to her tongue while the tightness of the hole makes her have to put effort into pushing. She pulls out and licks some of the substance off her lips, thinking to herself.

"She tastes good, doesn't she?" Marcos asks, nuzzling Nimus' neck as he caresses a breast.

"Yes, she does." She admits.

Going in again, she traces the folds slowly, feeling the body respond and then repeating what it seems to shudder at. After caressing all of it and then flicking the hood a few times, she swirls her tongue around the hole. The tongue goes around in soft circles until she feels the entrance get wet enough, a few drops trailing between her cheeks, and then slides it in a little more. She pulls out and traces her folds again before circling and thrusting in deeper and then repeats the process over and over. Nimus, sweating and panting, writhes and wriggles, humping her face as the pressure builds.

"Please." She begs, "Close."

Marcos stands up and walks behind Lyris, his arousal at the sight of her eating her out prodding into his pants. He slowly pulls them down and then regrets it, feeling very awkward just being there without anything to do. _Hmm. Neither of them saw. If I put them back on and look casual…_ And then Lyris shifts and sits next to Nimus, meaning the both can see him. _Of fucking course._ His expression turns grumpy as he awkwardly watches Lyris cup their peer's sex softly, tracing her folds with her fingers careful. Nimus mewls softly and then groans throatily as she feels something thicker than a tongue pushing its way into her. She bites her lower lip and winces as the stretching hurts softly but Lyris takes her time, allowing her middle finger to be pushed back and then to thrust back in after a moment. The wet, warm walls encase her digit in a _delicious_ tightness that makes her growl deeply. After a few careful thrusts, her knuckles pat Nimus' lips softly. Nimus' eyes are widen open as she pants softly, getting used to the thick finger deep inside her, stroking her insides. After a moment, Lyris slides her finger out and then thrusts back into faster. Nimus arches her back and hisses in both pleasure and pain as Lyris' finger begins to gain speed. The pressure soon gets too big and with a soft moan that lasts half a minute, she collapses and shivers, weakly trying to push Lyris out of her sensitive warmth. Her essence coats Lyris' entire palm and she carefully slides her finger out and feels warm hands hold her wrist and a warm mouth capture two of her fingers. After sucking and licking off her orgasm, Marcos leans back and licks his lips.

"As sweet as last time." He says and Lyris lets off a small scoff, a tiny smile forming.

She leans over and strokes one of her fingers over Nimus' trembling mouth, letting her taste herself again, before sucking the remainder of the juice off. She stretches her back and licks her lips again, finding the taste surprisingly enthralling. A gentle touch on her back Lek makes her tense and a deep chuckle emits from behind her. She rolls her eyes and reaches behind her, her fingers encasing his warm, hard length. His chuckle is immediately cut off with a groan as she softly pulls her hand to and thro. He bares his teeth as she twists it carefully, experimenting and watching his reaction.

"Good?" She asks bluntly and he nods.

"Very." He mumbles as she pumps him softly.

After several moments she finds herself growing bored. While bringing pleasure to him is interesting and pleasurable in and of itself, it's not helping the throbbing in her groin. Getting up, she stares at him and then closes her eyes, lifting her arms and shift above her head and tosses it to the ground. Her large bust bounces once and that's enough for another growl to escape his chest and she waits, not sure of how to proceed. Her arms lay lamely by her side and she stares at the ground, not entirely comfortable with people seeing her body. A gentle pair of lips caresses her Lek and horn and draws her into a gentle kiss. Snaking his hands to her hands, he bites her lip hard enough for her to moan. As she does, he pulls them down and lets them fall to her ankles. She quickly goes to pull them back up but he sucks her neck in just the right place, making her core throb.

"Lyris."

They both look at Nimus who gestures to Marcos, making him step away from Lyris. Her hips are much curvier and wider than Nimus' but again, that's merely a species difference. Her sides have the white, diamond patterns of her face and Lekku that trail down to the side of her feet. Her belly is toned and muscular with a smooth pelvic region and a darker orange between her clenching thighs. Her human peer slides behind her and inspects a personal interest. Her rear is as round and tight looking as he'd seen in all those peeks he'd stolen. _Hmm. As perfect as ever._ Nimus peeks over Lyris' shoulder and giggles.

"Told you."

Marcos looks up and blushes as Lyris huffs.

"You haven't been subtle during training." She explains, much to his horror.

"Men." Nimus tatters before using a finger to beckon her friends over.

Lyris raises a brow sceptically as she gets to the edge of the bed while Nimus shifts and sits on the edge of the bed. She lightly traces the white square patterns on her sides and kisses her lower tummy. Lyris rolls her head back and moans as Marcos sucks her neck and cups both breasts, stroking the nipples softly and twisting them carefully. His entire hand can barely encase them as he caresses the large, warm orbs. He cups them tightly and she breathes in deeply, almost purring as she places her hands on his and lightly squeezes them.

"You're so beautiful." Nimus whispers as she picks up one leg, giving her better access.

A blush reluctantly forms on the Togruta as she then moans slowly, feeling a wet tongue trail from the bottom of her entrance to the top and swirl at her hood. The sensation is odd but brilliant as she start bucking into Nimus' eager mouth. The movement allows Marcos' hard length to slide between her firm but soft cheeks and the experience makes him moan. He gently rocks between them, feeling them stroke him as Lyris moans in his arms. The feeling of him between her makes her releases a soft chuckle as she moans again.

"You and my rear." She mumbles against his ear as he kisses her cheeks.

"Oh, shush or I'll show you just how much I love it." He groans, his dry humping getting him close faster than expected or desired.

The thought makes her pause momentarily, the suggestion being not _entirely_ opposed by her. But her thoughts are cut off by Nimus suckling on a certain part of her that makes her gasp loudly and lean into her face, clutching her head. The action leaves her bent over slightly and Marcos licks a finger and then traces it between her legs. Between the tongue lashing at her bud and the finger pressing into her, she begins to seize up slightly. The finger presses in but is immediately met with resistance, making him lean into her ear as he presses further still.

"You are _tight_." He whispers as she grunts and winces, feeling the long finger reach deep into her.

The sensation of a tongue circling, stroking and teasing her while a finger rubs within as it slides in deeper than anything makes her gasp and then shudder. Marcos feels the walls clamp around him and he releases another vibration from his chest as she clutches Nimus' face and rides. The smaller girl feels a liquid tickle onto her tongue and she holds her tongue out, letting Lyris ride out her first orgasm. It takes as long as Nimus', maybe a little longer, and then she literally stumbles forward. Marcos has to hold her up with the force and lower her on the bed to ensure her safety. Her bust rises and falls deeply, exhaustion on her face.

"First…time…" She admits between pants.

"And how was it?" He asks, licking his soaked finger.

 _Hmm. Tangier than Nimus. Thicker as well._ Nimus leans over and kisses her softly, allowing her to taste herself. The Twi'lek soon lies next to her, her head on resting on her armpit and Lyris, much to Marcos' interest, places her arm around the Twi'lek in an almost protective manner. The two exchange looks and instead of appearing shy, Lyris' chest rises as she releases a soft growl in an almost challenging manner. The human smiles softly, still aroused due to his lack of relief, but not frustrated enough to force the issue. He lamely crawls onto the bunk and lies on his stomach next to her, feeling both tired and aroused from the activities and workouts during the day.

"Roll over." Lyris mumbles.

Too lazy to question or argue, he rolls over and rubs his eyes. His body shudders as a warm hand encases his length and begins to stroke it again, twisting the shaft softly like he enjoyed earlier. Nimus, almost dozing off, looks over Lyris' breasts and snorts.

"Didn't get to finish?"

"Sadly no." He mumbles, smiling as Lyris caresses a specific spot he likes.

Lyris, now knowing the girl is awake, lightly pushes her so she's lying on her tummy, their stomachs resting against each other as Nimus' head lies on a breast. She lazily reaches out and strokes his chest. Not used to two different people touching him at once yet, he gasps and shivers slightly.

"What about Nimus'?" Lyris asks.

"Hmm?" He queries, too busy moaning.

"Her rear. Do you like it?"

The question makes the girl in question blush and try to bury her head in Lyris' breasts, much to the latter's amusement as she strokes her head softly. Marcos, almost instantly replaces.

"Smaller, more defined, less muscle so it bounces more and looks great in the training gear we wore in the Academy."

Lyris stops stroking and Nimus freezes.

"Well…You keep notice…Very _specific_ and _detailed_ notice." Lyris says, slowly returning to stroking. "So…Which one would you rather have?"

"I don't have favourites." He chuckles and then swiftly sits up, feeling something off.

Lyris frowns and opens her mouth but the door knocks several times.

" _Ze have issue…Ah…Distress signal. Vedi. Master vants you to…to go."_ She says, sounding extremely embarrassed.

"Empaths." He scoffs and then looks down at his arousal, sighing.

Lyris smirks softly as she pushes Nimus onto the bed, making her get up.

"We'll sort that out for you soon."

"Have you ever noticed how the universe seems to hate me?"


	13. The Jedi

A/N: I'm back. Exams and stuff have been delaying me so please forgive me. I hope this chapter makes up for it and if not, please don't kill me. This chapter will push the plot further along and step up the next few chapters so please enjoy.

Feel free to toss a review or follow or whatnot. Any criticism is good criticism. I think…

I lack an editor so please forgive me.

Have fun

No.13: The Jedi

"Sorry kiddies," A dry sounding Elso says as the four of them enter the cockpit, "Training and sexual parties will have to wait a few."

The last comment makes the three of them stiffen with Marcos' eyes squinting in embarrassment, a fact Elso seems to revel in. After clothing themselves and, in Marcos' case, waiting for his excitement to waste away, the four of them had quickly entered the front of the ship to see a large vessel in front of them. A long, skinny ship with four large engines at the back is hovering in front of them, three of the engines damaged beyond use. The hull of the ship is also very damaged but there isn't any sign of the ship that attacked it. The Republic emblem pasted to the side has been burnt heavily, a fact that makes Elso think it was shot at on purpose.

He swings around and claps his hands together, smiling mock bashfully. That look alone makes Macros want to sigh loudly. _Means I'm probably about to die or break my hands again._ His master gets up and points back to the ship.

"Republic vessel. Very fast and carrying something very important to them. We're going to see what's got them so worried out here near the edge of their space. Had encrypted transmissions but I managed to jam them. Don't want any more enemies here. I think they're a bit busy to notice though…"

"Meaning?" Lyris grunts impatiently as she crosses her arms.

"The message heavily implied their attackers are still there." He murmurs while turning around and positioning the ship closer to the other one.

The vibrations of the ship make Marcos clench his sore hands tightly, his anxiety slowly flaring up again. The moisture of his mouth soon dries again, making his leathery tongue shift against his throat and in turn, make it release a small heave. He stands still and tries to look forward but several of the veins in his head begin to swell with the pressure. Nimus softly strokes his arm as Elso looks around and he feels his breathing deepen. Lyris shoves him and bucks her head to the side, gesturing for the airlock. He nods and they begin to walk towards there until Elso tatters.

"We need a plan, imbeciles." He yells and they turn around, already hating this mission, "Lyris and Nimus will go together on the top floors while Marcos and I scout the bottom. We'll meet in the middle. If anything related to the cult is there, you call me and do not engage. We do not need a repeat of Nar Shaddaa." He says, looking pointedly at Macros' hands.

He scoffs but nods, gesturing for his master to continue. The smaller vessel clamps onto the transport and the echoes hiss around the halls, the human boy wincing as a result.

"If you're ambushed or attacked head to the middle and we'll try to add support. If we can't make it run to the ship. If you can't do that," He pauses, offering them a slightly contorted look, "at least kill a few of them for us." He adds as he tightens his belt and heads to the airlock.

The blunt nature of the comment catches the three of them off guard, so much so that Nimus steps backwards for a moment. Marcos is quick to push her forward again as they enter the side of the ship. Lyris, on the other hand, bucks her chin at the casual nature of him handling their potential deaths.

"Do you still hate me?" Lyris growls and he tilts his head side to side, further irking his much taller student.

"Hate is a strong word. But enough idle discussion." He chuckles, "Zeltron! There's a blaster on the panel near the main flight controls. Use it on anyone other than us." He instructs and Lyris frowns.

Svena nods obediently and Nimus pats her shoulder before she returns to the cockpit as order. Once the purple girl is out of hearing range Lyris leans towards her master.

"Is that wise? Giving her a weapon?" She whispers and he shrugs as the doors seal behind them.

"Let me put it this way: if she can do anything serious to any of you with a blaster, none of you are worthy to be my students." He says dully before leading them into the damaged ship.

Violent flashes of red pierce their eyes as their boots touch the once shiny silver floor. The walls are burnt with blaster fire and the rancid smell of burning flesh makes Nimus gag. Lyris ignores it but notices the collection of Republic troopers tossed everywhere, the blank eyes staring directly ahead of them. _Judging by the fact there's only one airlock and there's only this corridor leading it to the hallways, this is probably where the attackers entered._ Her theory is further supported by the dozens of corpses, all of them twisted unnaturally or having been shot in the back. A barricade of several riot shields appears to have been shattered by blunt force alone. There's no burns or bends, just shattered pieces of metal thrown into the flesh of the men and women behind it. The floor is a red pool with tiny swirls of different colours belonging to different species.

Elso steps forward, passing the Republic emblem that's been violently shot at, and kneels in front of one of the bodies. He rotates the human woman's neck and notices how easily it shifts to unnatural angles. He sighs and then gestures.

"Theories?" He asks, seeing how good they can be at deduction.

"Most of them have snapped necks." Nimus mentions and Marcos nods.

"Except for the one with a crushed chest, the shattered barricade and the ones that have been shot at." Lyris adds.

"With their own guns." Elso finishes.

He picks up a blaster and shots a round at the wall, forming an identical hole and burn that mirrors the shape and depth of the mortal wounds. He clucks his tongue while tossing it aside.

"Force user. Be on comms. And I mean _always_. And do not engage." He warns before nodding at Marcos and veering left towards the emergency stairs.

He turns and gives the others a meek smile that Nimus returns while Lyris remains impassive. But after a moment her mouth curves into a shadow of a smile.

"Be safe." He says and Lyris snorts.

"Tell that to your hands." She counters and he frowns as he heads down the stairs.

He quickly catches up to Elso's back as he silently heads down the stairs, the quiet, uneasy nature of the ship starting to sink in. It's an uneasy feeling being in such a silent place meant for loud noises and crowds of crewmen. Just silence. The artificial air seeming suddenly seeming so fake and filled with anxiety. The stairs are small and a cheap metal, clinging to the walls with a creak as you step on them. They were clearly intended not to be used often or hopefully at all.

"No bodies. The attackers didn't come this way." Elso murmurs, gesturing to how empty it all is.

"Or at least had no resistance." Marcos whispers as they reach the bottom and head out.

The first sight they lay their eyes on is a series of medical personnel thrown into disgusting positions. Red splutters along the walls from the man's head that has been recently thrown into it. A woman's body is covered in medical equipment, shoved painfully into her chest. Several younger people, most likely assistants, either have their necks snapped or were thrown into a steel container and crushed, rivers of red streaming down the silver containers.

"Guess you were right." Elso admits as they swiftly pass through the room.

He suddenly pauses once they exit and holds a finger up, turning to Marcos with an irked expression.

"Can you sense anything?"

Marcos closes his eyes and tries to ignore his anxiety, focussing on the soft hums of the ship and the darkness that shutting your eyes provides. The cool air of the ship. The thumbing of his heart slowing as silence returns. _Silence._ Just nothingness. No hate but no light either. Nothing. He opens his eyes and looks at his master curiously.

"Nothing. I can't sense anyone." He says uncertainly.

"Which is interesting considering I'm less than a foot away from you and Lyris and Nimus are here." He huffs. "Who the hell are they?" He says, turning to his student, "A cult that hates both the light and the dark. They don't use weapons and prefer their hands and the force. And we can't even feel them. Ragnos had nothing to do with any of this. He was a Sith." He says before drawing a long sigh, "No matter. We can ask this la…" He pauses and then steps to the left, looking behind Marcos.

His student immediately follows suit and turns his vision to the being staring at them. A tall, young man with a rangy build is several metres away from them at the edge of the hall. His navy blue cloak lies along his left shoulder, revealing his right arm and leg. From the small area it shows, the crest of the cult can be made out. He's young, only slightly older than Marcos, with long grey hair and very dark eyes. Very intense, unsettling eyes that seem to vibrate as they pierce into the two of them. Marcos tries to sense his intentions but it's like trying to connect with the air. No, the air _moves_. _This guy doesn't exist in this reality._ Marcos feels his body tense and then digs his feet into the ground, preparing for the inevitable chaos.

"I take it you're the one who re-enacted my favourite medical opera?" Elso asks, his hand already on his lightsaber.

"Elso." The human states in a husky voice, "Marcos."

Marcos' stomach moves uneasily as he looks around them, seeing anything that could be thrown at them in a surprise attack. _Wall boards. Nails. An entire ship at his disposal._ Elso seems unphased and turns to his student.

"Have you been selling our likeness to terrorists again?"

"Amusing." The cultist interrupts, annoying the SIth. "I was told to expect your dry wit. And your inability to train worthy students." The last comment makes Marcos glare. "You've developed a habit for interrupting our reclamations. It is a shame, too. I was about to catch her. No matter. After she wears herself out killing the females and I've killed you, I'll kill her."

"Amazing strategy." Elso rolls his eyes, drawing and igniting his weapon, "By the Empire of the Sith's command, I-"

A series of knives are hurled at the two of them within a second. Elso immediately forces a wall panel in front of them and tosses it away once the final knife digs into it, revealing the cultist right in front of them. Marcos activates his weapon and slashes at his face, being careful to avoid his master as he steps forward and leans on his strong leg. The attack misses completely and the cultist uses Marcos' momentum to push him away with his own swing. The boy grunts as he is tossed into the wall and the cultist smirks, clenching his fist while ducking to evade Elso's stab. The wall behind Marcos creaks and tears savagely, the sound of a lion roaring in Macos' ears as the sheets of metal are wrapped around his wrists. He tries to angle his lightsaber and even use the force to steady his weapon into cutting him free but the sheets are too thin. If he isn't specific enough the blade will cut his hands off.

Elso quickly avoids several punches aimed at his chest, watching the force pour off of them as his opponent tries to crush his chest. He slides to the side and thrusts his lightsaber into the side of the young human but he effortlessly rolls to the ground. Grabbing Elso' wrist, he continues his roll and throws Elso into the wall. The Sith grunts as he slides down and rushes forward, twirling his blade across his side. He forces several tiny nails from the ship's railings into shooting at the human's eyes but they're easily repelled, the cultist grinning as he makes them fly around him. They drop a second later.

Watching the fighting with a level of trepidation, Marcos forces himself to close his worried eyes and focusses on the curved metal around his wrists. The violent thumping in his ears takes a moment to vanish but he eventually gets there. He grits his teeth, feeling the consistency and texture and the harsh strength within the metal. The pressure in his head increases, the blood thickening as a migraine forms. Slowly but surely, the durasteel snaps. He releases several short pants before collecting his lightsaber again, running forward as the cultist easily dodges each strike of Elso. He chuckles, mocking the Sith, as he grabs a corner and leaps around it, avoiding another flourish aimed at his legs.

Elso eventually forces him into a corner, flourishing his crimson blade across all angles in front of him, coating his chest in a red glow while trying to make sure he has no way out without being cut. His student stops several paces behind him, ready in case something happens. Something _does_ happen. The ceiling collapses above Elso and as he easily tosses it upwards a sharp kick lands into his rips. The Sith slides along the floor of the hallway, hissing as he clutches his side. Marcos lunches forward, managing to avoid a follow up kick, and slashes his lightsaber across the man's chest. Due to the closeness of the wall behind him, the human doesn't entirely manage to avoid the attack as he leaps backwards. The sheering sound is followed by the smell of burning skin and the cultist growls as he holds the shallow cut.

The victory is short lived as Macros' air is cut off. His feet begin to dangle in the air as he feels an invisible hand tighten around his neck. The seething cultist bares his teeth at the boy before slamming his fist forward. Wind and vision is knocked out of the apprentice as his body hurls across the hallway, a bullet in the landscape. Feeling a level of Déjà vu occur, he quickly pushes against the impeding wall with the force and manages to halt his collision. He drops to his feet and looks up to see Elso avoiding several punches and then manages to give a small but firm punch to his burnt chest. The strike manages to make him stagger and clutch his wound again, spitting as he looks at the two of them. He smirks and then stands up straight, simply doing nothing. Seeing a potential time to strike, Marcos charges at him and spins with a slash aimed at his legs.

"NO!" Elso screams.

The man jumps and force pushes Marcos into his master, knocking him off balance while Elso tries to slide in front of him and readjust his position. The several seconds it takes is too long as the cultist is already in front of him before he can defend himself. Several punches land on his chin and when he manages to duck his head is pulled into Marcos' side, leaving them both open to a shockwave that knocks them across the floor. He marches towards them and Elso rises to his knees, screaming as he pushes the cultist with enough force the entire ship creaks. Then echoes. And then the emergency lights get brighter. Marcos' eyes widen swiftly as he looks around, feeling the ship vibrate and groan loudly.

The sound of laughter echoes in the hallway, drowning it out as the cultist tries to get up, the impact of the throwing damaging his lungs and ribs quite a lot. He spits out some blood as he smiles at them, limping backwards towards what Macros assumes are the escape pods.

"Advice: Do not add more pressure to an already unstable ship with a sensitive third engine." He smiles, "I get to kill five instead of one today. Fun." He says before activating the blast doors.

Marcos rushes towards the escaping man but his master grabs his arm and pulls him back.

"Not now. We need to get the others and leave. We don't know how long this damn ship has."

"Where are the others?"

"…ed to talk about it." Nimus says, crossing her arms as the two girls slowly walk through the maintenance rooms.

It's a thin corridor, lit up only by the emergency red lights. Most of the open doors reveal emergency equipment and tools, all of which have been left perfectly untouched. Lyris casually picks up a scanner and then tosses it away as they begin to inspect the food stores for anything or anyone of interest.

"I merely said I'm not comfortable discussing the topic as of yet." She replies dryly and Nimus sniggers.

"You'd make a fine diplomat, my student." She says while Lyris glares at her before they look around the preservation bays.

Most of the food is military rations and packages of liquids. Again, this area looks completely untouched with no signs of battle or resistance.

"I just don't feel like discussing what I _taste_ like at the moment."

"Tangy." Nimus replies immediately, ignoring the girl's previous comment but focusing on her flush.

"I…Focus. We could have another cultist." She spits, leading the way to the emergency stairs, "If we are ambushed by you…investigating what other areas of my skin taste li-"

"I just asked about your horns. That's all. If I threw a rock at them would you feel it?" She asks as they enter the second lowest level.

Lyris actually thinks for a moment and then shakes her head as a negative. In front of them is a series of bodies, this time in civilian clothing. _Probably the maintenance crew_ Nimus ponders as she steps around the broken bodies. Lyris looks around and shakes her head again.

"Something feels off. It's too quiet." She says and Nimus nods, walking towards a circle of bodies to inspect them. "Nimus!" She hisses.

"What?" She snaps back, gesturing to the bodies, "I'm inspecting them for information."

"Yeah. Look at the damn blood trail."

Nimus steps back and notices that several of the bodies have drying trails of squished blood from different directions. Several of them trace back to pools of the liquid from far away as well.

"Perfect circle as well." Nimus observes and Lyris nods.

"I may not be as smart as you but I know how to _hunt and trap._ " She whispers, drawing her lightsaber while Nimus does the same.

They join each other's backs and try to focus while feeling the area around them but they quickly discover it's pointless. There's just nothing to feel or sense. Not even the humans. Lyris moves to say something but only grunts as a box is hurled at her head. Nimus immediately slides in front and covers her while she seethes and curses, holding a bleeding cheek.

"Who the fuck?" She shouts, pushing Nimus out of the way.

A set of combat batons zip at Nimus and she spins and slices them in half, stepping back and frowning.

"This…is a very uneasy attack." She whispers but Lyris ignores her, charging towards the kitchen area where the original box came from. "Lyris!"

The Togruta steps directly on a leather object hidden in a set of torn clothes and watches as her lower leg is wrapped in a tight rope made from a belt. Her body is pulled into the air as a blue light flashes towards her. A flicker of red is met by yellow light and a high pitched hiss. Nimus knocks the lightsaber back and spins her weapon while stepping back, severing Lyris' rope while blocking another strike. A hint of pride forms in Lyris stomach as she gets up and watches Nimus counter each sidewards strike with a parry, forcing their opponent step back. A Mirialan girl, roughly as tall as Nimus with a skinny frame and light green skin, holds her weapon outwards to the side as a warning. Her cropped dark black hair has a greenish tinge to it and her narrow, unnaturally calm eyes are a dark brown. Her torn and bloodied robes easily identify her as a Jedi student, along with her blue lightsaber. Lyris quickly notices how she's not putting any weight on her left leg and how saturated it is in a dark liquid. She licks her lips and chuckles.

"So _this_ is a Jedi?" She actually laughs and looks at Nimus, "Not going to lie. Was expecting better."

"Overconfidence is the doorkeeper to defeat." She counters in an emotionless voice.

"And apathy is the pathway to cruelty." Nimus replies immediately, making the girl scoff.

"You speak of cruelty yet you live among murderers. Slavers. Rapists. The hypocrisy. How many have _you_ killed?"

"We including you in that list?" Lyris grunts as she steps forward but Nimus holds her arm.

"You're bleeding out and, given your code of conduct, you're not the killer of these people. So we're not here for you. How about we all just calm down and then-"

A flash of sapphire swings down at her and Lyris quickly pushes her out of the way and knocks back the attack. The large alien hisses ferally as she knocks back every strike, trying to tire the heavily wounded girl with her own heavy hits. But the smaller girl deactivates her weapon, making Lyris lose balance and then need Nimus to shield her side for her. Nimus hisses as the two girls push against each other, gnawing their teeth as Lyris catches her footing. She turns around and tries to hack at the exposed side of the Jedi but her enemy disconnects from Nimus and steps back, managing to knock back the attack.

The two Sith circle the girl, Lyris aiming for the head and Nimus the legs. But the Jedi throws a plate at Lyris, distracting her enough to allow the Jedi to turn and block several strikes from Nimus and then follow through with a push into the bench. Nimus rolls to the side, watching her opponent's weapon slice through the metal she was once on. She ducks and spins but her strike to the legs is blocked and countered with a backhand to the Lek. She gasps and falls on her rear while Lyris grabs the unsuspecting Jedi's neck. She clenches down on it tightly, knocking away her lightsaber, as the Mirialan gasps while her feet dangle. Reaching out with both hands, the Jedi immediately slaps both her Lekku and Lyris' vision blackens completely.

Nimus watches as her friend topples to the ground, her body spasming as the nerves in her Lekku try to calm down. She gets up and strikes at the distracted and weakened girl's side and then turns her blade downwards, blocking a strike to the legs again. She reaches out and for several moments manages to clutch the throat of her opponent with the force as if it was in her palm. The sensation of thinking something is there when it isn't confuses her, allowing the untrained Sith to lose focus enough for a force push to be lobbed at her. She epps as her body collides with the table but she swiftly hurls it at the Mirialan. The attack is pointless as she cuts it in half but offers enough distraction for Lyris to groggily grab her leg. She shouts in agony, her body becoming a taut contraption as her wound it tightly pressed into. Lyris offers a tired chuckle but the ship vibrates and creaks.

A sudden shift into the ship sends everyone rolling along the floor, Nimus narrowly avoiding her Lekku being crushed under her body weight. She hastily gets up and points her weapon at the body of the Jedi. She doesn't move. Lyris, clutching her swelling Lek, limps towards their foe and bucks her chin at the head that's firmly against the bench.

"Idiot knocked herself out."

"I don't think that was her." Nimus says carefully, hearing the ship groan loudly again as her chest vibrates.

" _N'Nimuzz."_ She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a fuzzy image of Marcos, " _May have caused this ship to go catatonic. Get to ours now."_

"We have an issue. A Jedi sized one." Nimus sighs.

Marcos frowns and then the sounds of scuffling is heard, along with Marcos complaining, until Elso appears on the communicator.

" _What?"_

"Jedi. Student. Wounded. Unconscious." Lyris grunts, stubbing the target of the conversation with her boot softly.

Elso closes his eyes and releases a deep sigh before opening them again.

" _Take her. Could have information. Disarm her first. Don't need repeat concussions."_

His image fades and she turns to look at Lyris.

"You know you're carrying her, right?"

"So we all got our asses handed to us. That's depressing." Lyris grunts as Svena applies some lotion to her cheek.

Elso rolls his eyes, not in the mood for his student's smartass nature at the moment. He injects another serum into swollen ribs and curses at the pain before tossing it away into the bin. He lowers his shirt and walks over to Nimus as Marcos applies some lotion to her Lekku. Lyris' sensitive organs have already been covered in several nerve bands, meant to reduce the swelling without putting too much pressure on the Lekku.

"The fact you were both defeated by a young child…The cultist had a fucking point about my students." He spits as he gingerly sits across from them, "She was wounded already. How did you two-"

"I…may have stepped on a trap. She caught us off guard." Lyris admits but Nimus coughs.

"That only allowed her two strikes. Wasn't really an advantage."

"Oh." Elso nods eagerly, "So you were stupid enough to spring a trap but a shit trap that did nothing and she _still_ beat you." He puts his head in his hands, "We're training none-stop until our next mission. I'm _embarrassed."_ Marcos shrugs but Elso notices, "Don't you act innocent. You went for a feign drop. You're as bad as Lyris."

"You were on your ass, master." He quickly adds the last word once Elso stares at him, "I didn't know what he was gonna do."

"And you're the _analytical_ one. Fuck." His head is returned to his hands.

Nimus' head lowers in shame, feeling uncomfortable at the amount cursing aimed at her. She'd heard it all before of course. The slavers were very colourful with their tongues. Anything from her smell to her ass to her walking speed was commented on and jeered at. She just isn't used to it coming from a mentor or due to something she actually deserved being criticised at. Lyris, being her usual cheery self, had to resist attacking Svena. The rage and insult at being bested by a simple trap and then having her Lekku slapped so easily is enough to have her wanting a genocide against Mirialans. The hateful feeling is felt by the entire room by no one comments on it, each dealing with the defeat in their own way. Marcos, somewhat happy his hands survived, rubs his chin in thought.

"Reclamation." He says and Nimus looks at him.

"What?"

"The cultist said it was his reclamation." Elso explains.

"Of?" Lyris huffs.

"You tell me." Marcos says softly.

Elso shrugs as well, not seeing the point in pretending to know any information, and gets up with a point to Svena.

"Come with me."

Nimus eyes them curiously as the timid Zeltron lowers her head and silently follows him towards the end of the ship. Marcos immediately follows suit and eventually all three of them find themselves in the extremely small brig. Elso tosses them a glare but doesn't seem to care that much as he turns back to look at the Jedi. Her leg has several bandages around it but her mood seems as apathetic as it originally was. Her body is resting on the ground in a mediation pose and refuses to even look up at the crowd. Elso smiles politely and sits on the single sit facing the glass wall. The brig could maybe fit three people and the viewing area another two but that's only if you have an eating disorder. He clears his throat but she refuses to look up again.

"Manners transcend ideology, my young friend."

"You're a murderer." She says matter-of-factly, her eyes still closed in concentration.

He rolls his eyes and shrugs. He looks at her with a strained, numb expression that colours him slightly older than usual.

"Maybe." He tilts his head side to side, "I have killed. Never out of desire, though." His expression turns flat.

"You're a Sith. You live for passion and pleasure, not order and kindness." She counters evenly.

"Well my three students apparently live for one of those things. Should've heard them this morning. Awkward." He grunts.

The three of them stare at him in shock, not quite knowing how honest, sarcastic or mocking he is being right now. Knowing him, could be all three though. He crosses his legs and taps his toe against the glass as if gossiping to an old friend.

"You've confused passion for cruelty. Besides, I'll even let you go if you answer a few questions."

"Doubtful." She deadpans and he shrugs again.

"Take it or leave it. Either way, I want to know why that cultist was on your transport. And why you were on it?"

Silence. He sighs and then stands up, moving to the far corner. He smiles at Svena and gestures for her to come in. She nervously enters, not likely having all eyes on her. She is gently guided into the seat and tenses as she feels Elso massaging her shoulders.

"Now then. Here's how this is going to work. I'll torture you to the brink of madness and then heal your mind into sanity again. And again. And again." He voice drops with each phrase, "I have nothing else to do and I think your friends think you're died. Sad." He pouts and then looks down at Svena, "And then you'll tell me things. And my beautiful Zeltron friend will tell me if you're lying. See, you're a Jedi so that complicates things when it comes to me being able to detect a lie. _Buttttt_ …Svena here can tell if your body is reacting to a lie. It's not a flawless method. You could think you're telling the truth and thus your body reacts as such. But pheromones rarely lie. Isn't that right, my dear?"

Feeling all eyes on her again, Svena stiffly nods and closes her eyes, wanting to be anyway but here. Her anxiousness is flowing heavily, suffocating the empaths in the room to the point where even Lyris seems to pity her. Marcos, knowing the feeling all too well, looks away and tries to focus on something else. Elso doesn't seem to care that much, however, as he looks at the girl.

"I can honestly do this for an eternity." He whispers, leaning into the glass with a foul look, "I don't have sympathy for your kind. But people are dying on both sides. Innocents. So please-"

"You regret your life choices."

He stops, looking at her in confusion. She opens her eyes for the first time and tilts her head to the side, eyeing him pitifully.

"You regret your life choices."

"You have no idea what you're talking about." He spits, turning his shoulder to her.

The response makes Svena shift uneasily and everyone looks at her, albeit for different reasons. The apprentices look at her to see what's wrong while Elso seems to be silently warning her. She sinks into her chair, biting her lower lip as her anxieties spike. Their master returns to the now smug Jedi and holds his palm up. Her body rises as she gasps, her oxygen suddenly being cut off from her lungs as her legs kick at the screen violently. Marcos looks away while Nimus tightens her mouth, afraid of saying anything as her stomach drops in disgust. Even Lyris seems uneasy with the choking, preferring a more blunt approach to handling your enemies. After several seconds he lets her go, watching as she regains her breath while he regains a level of control.

"Why were you attacked?"

"I…A simple…choke…won't…"

He sighs and throws her against a wall, making Svena jump in her seat. She writhes softly as she watches the girl being tossed back onto the ground.

"Answer me or the leg gets broken." He says bluntly.

She chuckles as she picks herself off the ground. But suddenly she's thrown back into the wall with a pressure tightening around her wound. She gasps and then feels her eyes water as the burning intensifies. Marcos watches his master closely, looking at the apathy he's showing and sighs. _Well I'm about to die._

"Master." He says softly but doesn't get a response. "Master." He says firmly.

Elso drops the girl and turns to his human student, a haunting expression cutting in his facial expressions and a tint of yellow in his irises. Almost instantly all confidence within Marcos dies miserably in a shallow pit of hell.

"We're Sith." He says in a husky voice, "We have a duty. I warned you previously to be committed or to leave."

He lowers his head and nods, thinking his next words over very carefully.

"With respect, you're not doing this for the right reasons."

Lyris' eyes widen and almost feels impressed by the spine growing in her usually timid, authority loving human. Nimus, on the other hand, looks like she wants to grab him and run to the nearest escape pod. Elso chuckles lowly and then leans into his student.

"Pardon?" He whispers.

"You…You're…You're clearly emotionally compromised."

"What?" He breathes deeply.

The air becomes unnaturally thick and Marcos feels a slight pressure around his throat forming.

"She's made you upset on purpose. She's clearly baiting you. She's a baiter. Ask Lyris."

"I don't answer to children, especially ones who get nervous in elevators."

That comment sends a level of heat into Marcos' chest and his body straightens completely. Elso leans back and also straightens himself, although he's barely as tall as the lanky human. On Elso's part, the gesture is merely to make sure Marcos backs down again. But much to his surprise the human's anger at the anxiety comment continues to fester.

"You made wrong life choices. I'm not the only one who was forced into the Sith." Marcos repeats, making Elso fume, "Yeah." He nods, "I think I guess what she means. Jedi," He calls to the girl, "Do you recognise him?"

Elso's hand suddenly wraps around Marcos' throat and tightens to the point of almost breaking bone. The sound of a lightsaber activating draws the attention of the humans as Nimus steps to the side, avoiding Lyris' weapon. Her expression is perfectly empty as she casually holds her weapon near the face of Elso whose eyes almost completely turn yellow.

"It's amazing what a cock can do, eh?" He says, his breathing uneven.

"This is escalating unnecessarily." Nimus says, placing herself between them.

Well, she tries to. The small room makes it extremely hard to do so, leaving her awkwardly shoulder to shoulder with almost everyone. Elso and Lyris ignore her though, with Marcos becoming desperate for air. His legs almost kick his master as the pressure in his head and the burning in his lungs escalate.

"Let him go and calm the fuck down. You're acting like me."

Elso chuckles deeply but eyes the situation carefully. He's angrily and not thinking straight but even like this he can tell this isn't the best place for a fight. The force numbing shield might be damaged and then the Jedi would escape. And then there's Nimus possibly getting involved. He's a strong duelest but not arrogant. At least not when it comes to actions.

He releases his hand and Marcos drops to the hard floor, panting as desperately as he can. Lyris stares at Elso for several seconds and deactivates her weapon, stepping to the side of the door. Their master silently leaves the room, the thick aura of hatred and rage slathering across them as he does so. The Jedi watches them with keen interest, not quite knowing what to make of them.

Marcos sighs as he pulls himself up, Svena carefully supporting his arm as he clings to her. He nods in appreciated and shakes his head, feeling the blood slowly draining from his crimson face.

"Well that…was…shit." He coughs.

He reaches out and tries to sense Elso but the entire ship seems to covered in his mood. _Must want to be alone._ He carefully massages his neck before feeling soft hands stroke them. Nimus smiles at him briefly before continuing to inspect his neck and face.

"I'm fine." He says, pulling her hands into his.

"Our master is not." Lyris huffs, "Which begs the question of what set him off. What were you inferring?"

He kisses Nimus' hands for a second before turning the confused Jedi. She's returned to her mediation pose but it's slagging and uneasy, a reflection of her clear unease at the current situation. One of her cheeks is hollowed, signalling she's chewing on one of them in thought. She looks at the four of them one by one, finishing with a lasting look at the truth telling Zeltron as she opens her mouth tentatively.

"I do not know what you-"

"Does the name Elso mean anything to you?" He cuts in quickly, making her furrow her brows.

She takes another moment to answer, rolling her jaw softly.

"Not personally. It's been referenced as a high ranking Sith. Little details on his personal or early life." She says softly.

Marcos turns to Svena and she nods.

"Ve is telling ve truth." She confirms and awkwardly tries to relax, although the presence of four force users makes that near impossible for her.

"What do you know about him?" The human presses and the Jedi's brow quirks up.

"Why? Ready to stab him in the back?"

A wave of frustration hits him, a lot faster than he'd usually anticipate. He presses a finger forward as his leg foot does the same motion.

"I just saved you and I'm not even asking that much. A little grace would be appreciated." He says through gritted teeth but a little laugh catches him off guard.

A small yet condescending smile graces her features, an act irritating enough to make Nimus need to hold Marcos' shoulder. The Jedi shakes her head, looking at them with a noticeable level of scrutiny.

"You're murderers."

"Well, Nimus technically isn't…" Marcos begins but the Jedi continues.

"You hide behind your own sense of insecurity and lack of purpose with such snark and sarcasm." She lets out a small huff, "It's sad. You could have made a worthy Jedi."

"She thinks she's telling the truth." Svena whispers.

Everyone turns to her, Marcos with an expression of unsettling intensity. She quickly scoots away from their stares and looks at the ground.

"The last part I mean…"

"We appear to have gotten off track." Lyris groans, the bridge of her nose resting between her fingers, "Why are we even asking this…person all this? You still haven't answered my question about it."

Marcos' face scrunches up as he shrugs, not comfortable with having this conversion when Elso could be listening somehow and there being a Jedi next to them. He nods to the exit and begins walking towards it when the girl speaks up again.

"And how long am I to be here before I die?" She asks evenly, though mirth is clearly laced in there as well.

"We won't kill you." Nimus sighs and Svena nods but Lyris shoots her a sceptical look that the Twi'lek instantly scolds.

"I don't know." Marcos admits, which Svena nods to once more, and he scratches the back of his head, "We'll talk to Elso once things cool down."

"If he doesn't kill you." The Jedi adds and the human and Togruta roll their eyes.

The four of them exit and Lyris reactivates the locking systems while the rest of them head to their quarters. _It's best if we don't go near master Elso, not yet at least._ Nimus chews on her lips nervously as her human friend flops on his bed, tired and sore from the arguments and fight. Lyris soon joins them, moving past Svena who is awkwardly standing in the corner with her head lowered. NImus tosses her a comforting look while the Togruta grunts and sits next to Marcus.

"Should we be talking in front of her?" She asks bluntly, much to the ire of Nimus.

"She helped us." Nimus counters, "Sense her. She's nice."

"The empathy of the enslaved." Lyris murmurs before Macros can swat her shoulder.

"Svena, what's your reading on her? Was she lying often?" Marcos asks, rolling onto his back to look at his ceiling.

"Ve…vas more deflecting ve answers ven lying." She explains and Nimus nods.

"The classic cheating husband method." Marcus chuckles and Lyris takes her turn to slap him.

"Do you think our master has a connection to her? Or at least the Jedi?" Nimus asks tentatively.

Marcos takes a moment to think and then nods before leaning on an arm and propping his upper body up.

"He's implied that he wasn't a Sith by choice. I don't know." He shrugs, tracing the creases in his sheets, "Maybe he was a Jedi or something. He doesn't seem murderous enough to be that Sithy."

"Yet he's okay with torture." Nimus shoots back and Marcos shrugs again.

"Like I said, I don't know. The Jedi girl pissed him off though."

"It was amusing if not concerning when you provoked him afterwards." Lyris huffs, glaring at him. "What if he had attacked you? Or us?"

"And why do you think I have you?" He winks before wincing.

Lyris retracts her fist from his gut and lies down next to him, her back turned to him.

"Is this the silent treatment?" He smirks and Nimus playfully tugs on her foot.

Lyris glares at her and crosses her arms, remaining silent. Marcos chuckles and wraps an around her stomach as Nimus leans down and holds her legs.

"You have approximately three seconds to get the fuck off me before I traumatise the Zeltron with your blood."

Nimus huffs and sits up but quickly moves behind Marcos and nuzzles his neck, purring softly as he closes his eyes. Lyris, seeing the stubbornness of the two, rolls her eyes again but lets them be, not seeing the point in fighting a losing battle.

"And the Zeltron?" She grunts.

"She can join or leave." Nimus yawns.

Marcos shifts gently, his eyes closed as he too bites back a yawn. Svena awkwardly stares at them, her ankles slowly rotating towards the door after she bows softly.

"Master. Mistresses." She squeaks softly as she exits.

"The novels are on the bed." Nimus numbles to her before the door closes.

The three of them take a moment to breathe and get comfortable before Lyris sighs.

"None of you are moving, are you?" She whispers, shifting to remove her boots and heavy clothing.

"It's my bed." Marcos rebukes whilst undoing his belt and pulling his trousers down.

"Shhh." Nimus mutters, finishing derobing into her underwear and crawling under the blankets.

Marcos rolls onto his back and places his hands on his chest as Lyris rolls to her side, trying to her comfortable as the three of them try to squeeze onto the bunk.

"If Elso attacks, one of you defend me." Marcos mumbles and Nimus nods into his shoulder, allowing the three of the them to slowly doze off.

The sound of the glass touching the sterile steel table echoes through the empty meeting room, the sole occupant using the sound to refocus. The allure of the vastness of space in front of him seeming more pleasant than the tasks at hand. Said tasks being explaining how several key artefacts have been stolen to the Dark Council without being _killed._ The holopad in front of him holds image after image, both Sith and Jedi, reportedly being stolen by several groups that no one seems to know. That or the fact no one seems to want to know. Perhaps it is a simple case of ignorance or a more forced attempt at staying out of imperial business. The citizens are all too well versed in trying to escape governmental matters. A fact that makes the man's back tighten and form several extra knots on his spine.

Another glass is poured. He finishes it in one swig and winces at the savage burn corroding his throat and following up his nose. The doors behind him slid open and he reclines in his chair, refusing to look at the newcomer.

"You're late." He says, his tone firm and clearly frustrated.

"The Ma'laki went dark." A heavily modulated voice replies, "It's difficult to find a missing ship when your government constantly gives you conflicting orders."

The man looks at his glass bitterly, one brow raised as he quirks his lip foully.

"I gave you orders to change mission. I expect you to follow them." He says as he pours another glass, careful not to spill anything on his white uniform.

"Why am I here? I gave you the information. This is wasting much needed time tracking that sh-"

The sound of a glass being hurled at the wall cuts him off. The man opposite him finally gets up and slams his palms on the ground, his veins swelling as spittle leaves him mouth.

"I don't give a fuck about a _ship._ " He hisses violently at the inquisitor before straightening himself and hastily marching towards him, "We are losing priceless materials that the Council demand to be protected. And I am tired of trying to explain that the resources I am using don't _want_ to investigate."

The masked man remains silent only to speak once the admiral tries to continue.

"I believe the cultists and the cargo the Republic was trying to conceal are linked." He says and the Admiral visibly gains more frustration, "I have come to believe that they were smuggling a-"

"The Republic is not behind this. _For once._ " He sighs and walks back towards the bottle of brandy, "You need focus." He drawls lazily as he draws his finger along the table.

"You need perspective. There are links that the Republic is behind this. Foolishly dooming themselves. The stolen Republic artefacts may have been stolen to throw us off the scent."

"And why did they go to such lengths to hide the fact four of their sites have been attacked? To make it convincing? Hmm?" He mocks, "If Elso didn't investigate this further, we might not have looked into this ourselves and thus only thought we've been attacked."

"The crew admitted to transporting a girl from one of the sites. It was attacked three days later. That cannot be ignored. I have reviewed Elso's finds closely and they match mine. All of the attacks were aimed at Marka Ragnos. I have a theory."

At this point the admiral loses complete patience. Not having another glass to throw, he settles with slamming his fist into the metal table. His face turns plumb as he tries to remove the immense pain from his nearly broken knuckles.

"Elso has recently engaged one of these cult members. I've sent you his location. You two will work together and find these cultists while I, along with the Grand Admiral and Dark Council, play peacekeeper with the New Republic."

The admiral's lack of force abilities isn't a hindrance when it comes to feeling the newfound displeasure seeping off the inquisitor. The stiff Sith lord crosses his arms and refuses to let his legs move.

"Oh, you didn't know?" The admiral smirks before letting his expression sour, "The mutual attacks have led to a…temporary hiatus of warfare. Apparently, the loss of one of their temples made the Jedi very touchy."

"And the fact our fleet is almost dead-"

"Enough!" The Sith becomes silent as the admiral regains his composure, "We will be sharing information about this cult and seeing if we can have removed quickly."

"That will not stay my blade from the throat of a Jedi."

"The Dark Council disagrees." The admiral replies, although he too isn't particularly happy with the developments. "All campaigns have been…ordered to halt until we can…guarantee the safety of your past." He says uncomfortably, "My, my. The importance of these artefacts are worth a _war_ to you Sith."

" _Some_ Sith." He corrects, "I'll do as you command and visit Elso. But do not expect me to play friend with some Jedi."

The admiral places a finger on his lips, failing to hide another smirk. He shrugs, his grey eyes shining with a new warmth.

"Well that might be hard." He chuckles as the inquisitor ignores him, preferring to exit the command ship, "Considering a group of Jedi strategists will also be meeting Elso to discuss your finds."


End file.
